


What Are Supergirls Made Of

by tooshoes



Series: What Are Supergirls Made Of [1]
Category: Catwoman (Comics), Supergirl (Bronze Age), Supergirl (Comics), Superman (Comics), Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: 1990s, Abuse, Angst, Argo City, College, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Multi, Origin Story, Partial Mind Control, Psychic Abilities, Public Sex, Shame, Slow Build, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Telepathy, Vampires, Witchcraft, kissing cousins, superhero origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 93,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooshoes/pseuds/tooshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the original story of Kara Zor-El, who was raised on Argo City, which was nothing more than an asteroid that survived the destruction of Krypton. Except in my story, Kara arrives on Earth as an 18 year old woman. Kara becomes Linda Lee, and enters college instead of an orphange. Not an easy transition for a girl who just lost her entire world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Daughter of Argo City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story begins in Argo City, on an asteroid, where refugees from the destruction of Krypton try to live on...  
> _____________________________

            “Kara, don’t tell your dad that Otto will be with us,” urged Kurt-El, as my friends and I approached my father Zor-El’s work chamber.

            Otto-Em looked away in shame.

            “I won’t lie to my dad”, I replied, shaking my head vigorously. I touched Otto-Em’s arm reassuringly. “And I will never deny that Otto is my friend.”

            Morina touched Otto’s other arm, and she nodded in agreement.

            Kurt-El raised his hand defensively. “No offense Otto, but we all know the history between Zor-El and your dad, and I don’t want it to be a problem.”

            “We aren’t kids anymore,” I said loudly, not caring who heard. “Dad doesn’t choose my friends for me.”

            But as I left my friends behind and walked through the door, I bit my lip and slouched, preparing for a retreat.

            Dad and I fought every day, it seemed. He made me so mad sometimes, but I vowed to take a deep breath before losing my temper. I used to say many things I would regret, but I think I was maturing. I would remember how he and I came from different worlds – literally.

            Many years ago, he was a famous engineer, and my mom was a brilliant astronomer on Krypton. That world sounded like a fairy tale to me. A world of billions with amazing technology and fine arts and beautiful landscapes. Then, in a blink of an eye, that world was gone.

            Mom and dad were stationed safely on the mining asteroid of Argo City, millions of miles away, when disaster struck. Luck had nothing to do with it; my dad’s brother tipped him off that something was going very wrong, and unlike most people, my dad actually listened. Mom was the first to see the destruction of Krypton in the observatory. The giant planet was no more, and suddenly all that was left of Krypton were 848 inhabitants living under a five mile wide dome hurtling through space.

            Fortunately, the survivors were mostly scientists, and they miraculously turned the mining asteroid into a self-sufficient sanctuary.

            Unfortunately, those same survivors were mostly older men, and no children at all. So the few young women alive were compelled to re-populate society. It was a cruel and unfair burden, yet the fruit of those desperate laws were a few dozen of us, just a few years apart in age, now approaching adulthood ourselves. We were a generation made not from love but from need. Whenever our parents talked to us, they reminded us of the golden days on Krypton, before that world ended. They created us to give themselves a future, but they never stopped wishing for the past.

            So when dad and I fought, I would remind myself of everything he had lost, and how hard life must have been those early days. I hoped he understood how difficult our lives were as well. We never asked to be born into these tragic times. We wanted our parents to see us for who we are, not what we could be for them. If we were to be the future, then we wanted some say to what kind of future.

            I felt an ember of anger burning, as I walked down the hallway of dad’s work chamber, and then stopped at the open doorway to his laboratory.

            Dad was there, as he always seemed to be, but nothing else felt right. Dad hid what he was working on. He turned toward me, but did not look me in the eye. His normally well-groomed hair was pulled in every direction. He neglected to shave. And a bottle lay shattered on the floor in a corner, with no attempt to clean it up. My feet were bare, so I walked gingerly inside. I was about to clean up the mess when my father asked:

            “What do you want?” The question seemed rude, but the way he said it sounded caring, as though he intended to grant a wish.

            I just stared at him. I was accustomed to angry dad, stern dad and funny dad, but not this guy. I did not know him, and it scared me a bit.

            Finally, I said, “I, uh, want to go out with my friends to the star strip and hang out.”

            I pressed my fingernails into my palm until it hurt, bracing for an argument or at least a long series of questions.

            But dad just nodded serenely and said, “Have a good time, Kara. In fact …” He reached into a cabinet and withdrew a bottle of some very old and fancy liquor and handed it to me. “Live life to the fullest. Don’t waste a moment.”

            Then he walked out of the room without another look or word.

            What the fuck was that?! No, no, no, that was all wrong!

            But I looked at the bottle in my hand and collected myself. I shrugged, shook my head, and smiled until things felt right again. I told myself, “that could not have gone better in my wildest dreams!” as I skipped down the hall back to my friends.

            “Well?” Otto, Morina and Kurt asked all at once.

            I tossed the bottle to Kurt and smiled wickedly, “We are golden.”

           

            ***

           

            The star strip was an acre sized patch of land on one edge of the city dome, just beyond the farms and orchards that provided Argo City with all of its food. Being so far from the center of the city, the artificial gravity was weaker under the strip, so walking and jumping felt effortless. Air circulating around the dome accelerated at the edges, creating a strong breeze. Very little light reached the edge of the dome, so the only plants that would grow were grasses and a few old trees that rose above the orchards. The ground below was in a permanent twilight. When the main lights of the city were dimmed to simulate night, the star strip went completely black, except for the brilliant star light and a beautiful glow from the red sun beyond, just below the horizon. Older folk wistfully compared the star strip to romantic get-aways on Krypton, decades before.

            They knew very well what their children were doing there these days.

            Kurt nudged me, as he tossed his cloak at the foot of a tree, and presented himself naked before me. “Let’s do our duty, and make a baby.”

            Otto laughed awkwardly as he turned away.

            Morina rolled her eyes. “Subtle.”

            I laughed and said, “Kurt, have you ever done something because it was your duty?”

            He seemed deep in thought for a moment. “Hmm, good point, I don’t think so.”

            “Then why start now?” I said, as I opened the bottle of liquor and took a quick shot. I felt a shock tingle through my body. Oh Rao, this shit was divine! Between the drink and the low gravity, I felt lightheaded. I must have zoned out, before I realized I was staring right at Kurt’s dick, which seemed to be growing by the second. I gave Kurt the bottle with a nudge of my own. “But let’s just see where a few chugs of this leads!”

            Those words were music to Kurt’s ears, and inspiration to other body parts. He took a chug and handed it down the line.

            After the bottle was passed around a few times, we were all feeling pretty good, but standing around with only one of us naked was getting a little old.

            “What the fuck,” said Otto, as he let his cloak drop.

            Morina and I glanced at each other, and then did likewise.

            Kurt predictably clapped his hands, saying, “So shall we get down to it?”

            I rolled my eyes, but honestly, that is what I came here for. Now that I had time to think it through, there was so much wrong with what we were thinking of doing.

            First of all, Otto and Morina were not into each other at all, and they both looked very uncomfortable at the thought.

            Secondly, I really hated that this is exactly what society wanted for us to do. Argo City was in a population crisis. While the law no longer required that we have children, contraceptives were illegal, and all four of us were already stigmatized for not getting the ball rolling. Kurt and I were arraigned by our parents to be together, even though we were cousins. None of the old rules applied when half of the population was related, and the whole world of possibilities was just a few dozen guys. I had nothing against Kurt, but if I had sex, I wanted for it to mean something to me. And truth be told, I was not eager to have children. Right now, I just wanted to have some fun.

            When it was clear that Kurt had nothing else on his mind, I tried a distraction. “I know, I brought a flying disk, so let’s play some zoomron!”

            Kurt, clearly disappointed, said. “Is that what we got naked for?”

            “We could play tackle zoomron...?” I offered, with a sly smile.

            “Ok, now you are talking!” he replied, and to prove his one track mind, added, “Let’s play boys against girls.” Kurt squared off against me, leaving Otto to square off against Morina.

            Omg, how blind was Kurt?

            Otto groaned audibly, as he looked disapprovingly at Morina.

            The look on her face made me wince, and what she said made me gasp: “Oh shut up Otto, and just suck Kurt’s dick already.”

            Otto shot right back: “Only if you pet Kara’s pussy, like you’ve always wanted.”

            I laughed, but Morina went silent. Did she really think I didn’t know?

            “Kara, I … uh … don’t know…” she stammered.

            “Don’t worry about it.” I gave her a quick, immodest hug. “You can pet me anywhere, anytime.”

            I could barely tell in the subdued, reddish light, but I thought I saw her blush.

            “So we are not playing boys against girls?” Kurt asked cluelessly.

            Suddenly, inexplicably, I felt really good, like I was exactly where I belonged in the universe. When I was with most other kids our age, I felt insecure, awkward and totally undesirable, but with my friends, I felt in charge and free to be myself.

            “No, Kurt,” I replied, moving beside him, very close, facing off against Otto and Morina. “You and I are a team. I’m too small to tackle on my own, so I need someone strong to help out.”

            Feeling appropriately flattered, Kurt agreed.

            I tossed the disk into the air, then Kurt and Otto leapt for it together, fighting to take control of the disk like it really mattered. Morina and I pretended to join the fray, but really we were just grabbing their arms a little, laughing and exchanging glances. And that is how the game went on for about half an hour. Otto never seemed happier, and in the heat of competition, Kurt barely remembered I was there.

            Now, with the boys both good and exhausted, being naked was just a little naughty fun, nothing more. I suddenly remembered that we still had most of the bottle of liquor left. We sat under a tree, and finished it off slowly. We joked and bitched and philosophized deeply and confessed our most embarrassing sins, until we were all drunk and sleepy. The rest of the night was a total mystery.

           

            ***

           

            “KARA!” screamed my father’s voice, interrupting my dreamless bliss. I opened my eyes, winced away the ache of a slight hangover, and took in my surroundings. Somehow, I had made it home last night. I was wearing Morina’s oversized cloak, and my body was covered in dirt. “KARA! COME DOWN!”

            “OK DAD! JUST GIVE ME A COUPLE MINUTES!”

            “NOW!”

            I rolled out of bed and looked myself over. Hopeless. Had he seen me stumble in last night? Was I in some kind of trouble? Hey, he was the one that suggested that I live life to the fullest. I tried to bat my bedhead down into a minor disaster, as I followed my father’s voice into the main living area.

            I stood confused at the doorway. Dad was dressed in his most formal orange and green suit, with the full family crest in front. More surprisingly, Mom was sitting in the chair next to him, also dressed formally. She held the family cat, while tears rolled down her eyes.

            I felt like I was dreaming. Dad never dressed so formally, and mom…well, she was autistic. I hadn’t seen her leave the observatory in months. I had never seen tears in her eyes, and my eyes immediately followed suit as I asked, “Daddy, what’s going on?”

            I sat down at his prompting, and tried to wait patiently as he paced around the room, deep in thought.

            Finally, he said, “Your mom found something at the observatory a few days ago.”

            He paused for a moment to see if I was tracking him. I choked on my words, “W-what did she find?”

            “A meteor shower moving into our orbit,” he said, giving me the news straight. “We spent the past two days calculating its trajectory. We ran the numbers several times. Our orbits will collide in 27 days.”

            I looked back and forth between dad and mom, hoping for some news to cushion the blow. My generation was raised knowing our tiny sanctuary in space was in a precarious situation, but every time something threatened our survival, we lucked out, or one of our brilliant scientists found a solution. “So? What do we do about it?”

            Mom spoke the first word I had heard from her lips in over a year. “Nothing.”

            “Nothing???” I repeated, laughing a little bit to ward off panic. “You mean…”

            Dad raised his hand and shushed me gently. “Don’t worry, Kara. I’ll think of something. We will survive, I promise.”

            Dad never broke a promise to me, but I understood he was only promising to do his best, and the look of defeat already weighing down his eyes and posture told me he had no faith in his own abilities. I covered my face, as the totality of what my parents were saying gradually dawned on me. “What about our home?”

            Dad could not look at me. “Argo City will be destroyed. Nothing can stop that.”

            “But where will we go? You always told me that we didn’t have the resources to build a new dome on another asteroid, and that the freight ships were too slow to take us anywhere.”

            Dad stared at me, suddenly stern. “No more questions. We are gathering at the city arena, where most of Argo will learn what I just told you. You need to clean up and get ready.”

           

            ***

           

            The city arena was empty when we arrived, but within a half hour, everyone in the world was there. All 1000 of them. Kurt, Morina and Otto walked in together after just about everyone else. Dad was making sure my mom was comfortable in the front, while I slipped away to be with my friends.

            Morina and Otto were both dressed up, having got the memo that this was a formal occasion. But they were laughing and joking, as though we had never left the star strip last night.

            Kurt, in fact, was still dressed in a cloak. He shrugged, “Hey they just told me to come, not to get all fancy.”

            Otto laughed. “That’s ok, Kurt, we couldn’t imagine you any other way.”

            Morina eyed me quizzically, and teased innocently, “Why so serious?”

            I couldn’t speak. All I could see was the bright glow of their happiness and innocence, and I wanted so much to keep that glow alive, just a little longer. Instead, I burst into tears.

            The depth of the loss facing us was pounding my heart and soul in painful waves of recognition. The loss would be total. We would lose our lives. Our possessions. Our hopes. Our memories. Our legacies. Each other. And we would lose everything together.

            My friends asked me what was wrong. I opened my mouth to answer, but when I looked into their eyes, my throat choked up, and I couldn’t speak. They tried to comfort me, but I only cried more. We had lived our whole lives on this asteroid under constant threat of destruction, but the danger had never felt real before now. Our parents reassured us throughout lives, keeping hope alive. They were doing that even today. But now I saw through the lie, and I could not bear it. I hated that I couldn’t keep that lie alive for my friends, because the growing awareness in their eyes was killing me.

            A few minutes later, my dad was introduced, and he wasted no time in delivering the bad news to the whole community. Unlike me, the older folk took it in stride. After Krypton died, they lived their lives as if they were on borrowed time, waiting for fate to call their number--as if they had gone through the stages of grief long ago, so they skipped right to acceptance. Now fate was catching up with us, and they were ready for it. They asked many questions, but they already knew this meant total destruction. They already knew Argo City could not avoid the meteors. They already knew that the few space ships available could hold only a few people for a few days, and they already knew there was no place to escape to.

            After a few questions, the discussion turned to how we would face our fate.

            Morina , Otto and I clinged to each other, not quite able to process all that was happening. Kurt sat alone, sober faced, and looking clueless. I thought he was having trouble absorbing the news. Later I would learn otherwise.

            When my father left the podium, the arena remained mostly silent. Many of us were at a loss about how to face the final weeks of our lives.

            Otto’s father Jer-Em then took the podium. He carried an ornate copy of “The Book of Rao”, and was dressed in a purple robe worn only by the religious Guild. Jer-Em was a priest of Rao and a mystic. His words were respected by many, mocked by others, but feared by all for his power to persuade. Every controversial policy and law in the city had his fingerprints on it.

            Otto buried his face in Morina’s lap, afraid of what his dad might say. Kurt and I each gave him a pat on his back.

            “Today we have learned a terrible truth,“Jer-Em began solemnly, “but this day was written in the book, and the signs have warned that the day of passage was near. Now it is upon us. It is understandable if we hesitate before the unseen. That is why Rao gave us a reprieve before calling us back to communion with all souls of Krypton. But we shall not fear. We shall not fight our fate. This was all part of Rao’s plan. We have proven ourselves worthy. Soon we will all enter paradise together.”

            I found myself nodding along with Jer-Em, eager to believe his words. In the past my friends and I had secretly mocked Jer-Em’s devotion and advocacy for the Guild’s old beliefs. But now that we faced what seemed like meaningless and complete devastation, Jer-Em was the only voice that offered hope.

            I looked at my father, who was seated near the podium. I could see that he was fuming. He knew that whenever Jer-Em offered hope, it inevitably led to more suffering. Yet I could not imagine Jer-Em making matters any worse.

***

         

            Jer-Em left the podium to a trickle of affirmations, after which the event organizer said a few final words, asking for people to remain calm, to keep doing their jobs, and to remember that we were all in this together. With the formal speeches concluded, the crowd slowly disbursed into small groups. If everyone was feeling what I felt, none of us wanted to leave. We needed to be with other people at that moment. We needed to talk about our fate.

                        I asked Otto, “Is what your dad said true? Is there really a place we go when we die?”

                        Otto looked at me as though I had asked him to explain the physics of warp drive. “How the fuck should I know!”

                        I looked down, too anxious and sad to feel embarrassed. “Sorry, I don’t know about these things. My parents are in the science Guild. We never talk about religious stuff. But your dad seems so sure, and now I feel like maybe this ‘paradise’ he talked about is our only hope.”

                        Otto shook his head, “Dad believes that crap, but he didn't say that stuff to make people feel better. With dad everything is right or wrong. He was drawing a line in the sand and saying 'you better feel this way'. Because anything else is an abomination before Rao. Personally, I really hope dad is wrong about a lot of things."

                        Kurt-El cut in, “Jer-Em said that stuff because he wanted to strike first against the House of El.”

                        “What do you mean?” I asked, stunned . “What does our family have to do with this?”

                        Kurt replied mysteriously, “I’m not sure, but Jer-Em always attacks our family, like we are devils. He made fun of Jor-El when he warned about the end of Krypton, and when Jor-El proved to be right, he accused Jor-El of sorcery. When our families put criminals into the Phantom Zone, he called it a moral disgrace. Whenever your dad talked about solving problems with technology, he would always say we were turning away from the will of Rao.”

                        I was amazed that Kurt knew so much more about our family’s history than I did. Dad never talked about it, but apparently Nim-El told his son a lot. I was ashamed of all the things I should have known about my family, but had never cared to learn about. Now, with little time left, those things seemed important to me.

            Those things were not important to Morina, though, who finally exclaimed in frustration. “Who the fuck cares?” The tears in her eyes belied her words. She continued in a monotone, “Nothing matters anymore. And I don’t care. This world always sucked, and now I’m glad it’s over.”

            Her words left us silent, feeling deflated. The moment was intolerable. Then Otto led us into a group hug that I wanted to go on for a long, long time.

            ***

            “Dad, why do you and that preacher guy hate each other?” I blurted out when I next saw my father at home later in the day.

            Zor-El was fighting with some machinery in his work shop at the time, and he was not pleased at the interruption. But when he thought about my words, he calmed down and shook his head. “Oh Kara, I don’t hate Jer-Em. I just think he is dangerous. I respect his views… well, maybe respect isn’t the right word, but I tolerate them. Yet he doesn’t tolerate anyone else’s views. Intolerance is always dangerous.”

            “Why were you so angry in the arena?” I asked, frustrated by his half-answer. “What is Jer-Em so against?”

            Dad sighed. “The Phantom Zone. Everything about it. He knows that a lot of people will want to try their luck with the zone rather than trust a god to deliver them to a life beyond death.”

            “Is that something we could do?” My eyes brightened with hope. “Can we be saved in this zone?”

            Dad shook his head firmly. “No, we don’t know anything about the zone. We only know how to send people there. We don’t even know if we are sending them to their deaths or to some kind of permanent limbo. Only one person has ever come back from the zone. Quex-Ul was sentenced there for a crime it turned out he didn’t commit, so we brought him back. But by then his mind was gone. We have no idea what happened to him, but it was bad. I wouldn’t want to chance the same thing happening to us. Maybe having faith in a deity is the right choice, like Jer-Em believes, but nobody really knows. And it’s not right for Jer-Em or anyone else to dictate how people live their lives, or what people put their hopes in. That’s what I was angry about.”

            I asked quizzically, “But if we are not escaping to the Phantom Zone, and we are not relying to Rao to save us, then how will we survive?”

            Dad paused for a long moment, before finally replying. “I’m sorry to be so secretive, Kara, but I think it’s best that nobody knows about that for now. But believe me, I promise you, I have a plan to keep you safe.”

            “You mean keep US safe,” I asked, not liking the omission one bit.

            “Oh yes, of course,” Dad raised his hand dismissively. “Keep us safe.”

            ***

                        Later, my friends and I met at the star strip again, but the mood was very different this time. No more nude hijinks, but damn we could have used some more of that liquor.

                        Kurt-El was alone looking through the transparent dome at the stars above when I arrived. “I’m looking for the meteor shower that will hit us,” he explained.

                        “Must be millions of miles away right now,” I replied. Astronomy might have been the only science thing I knew more about than Kurt. I looked around the sky for a moment. “There. My mom found the meteors hidden in that constellation,” I stood really close to him so he could see where I was pointing.

                        Kurt looked at me with a sad look in his eyes. His hair was a total mess, and he wore a dirty white shirt with torn black pants. With so much doom and gloom in the air, under those stars, I felt more attracted to him now than to anyone, ever. What the fuck was wrong with me?

                        Just then Morina and Otto arrived together.

            Morina was carrying a music cube, and Otto carried a large bag full of food.

            “I hope you guys want to hang for a while,” Otto said, “because if we only have a few weeks left, I don’t want to spend any of those hours at home.”

            “Sure Otto,” Kurt said, as he looked into the bag. “Now what kind of food are you trying to bribe us with?”

            Morina and I laughed. It was a good laugh, not very forced. Being alone with my friends made everything seem more ok, somehow.

            “Is it just me,” Otto began, looking at us carefully, “but it doesn’t feel like such a bad night to me. Not like we are in any danger, anyway.”

            Kurt nodded, “I was just thinking that when I arrived.”

            “Well of course YOU TWO would feel that way,” Morina said, with equal parts of sarcasm and teasing.

            Otto and Kurt replied at the same time: “What do you mean?”

            “Well, I never thought either of you would think twice about dying, after what you did on the tower.”

            I laughed, while the two boys glanced at each other, embarrassed.

            About three years ago, Kurt and Otto dared each other to climb the tower at the center of the city. The tower was actually a huge antenna from the old days, when there was actually someone out there for us to communicate with. The tower reached almost to the top of the dome, more than a quarter mile above the ground.

            “What the hell were you thinking, anyway?”

            Otto shrugged, “I’m not sure I was thinking at all. I just didn’t want for this show-off to beat me.”

            Kurt defended, “I just knew nobody had ever climbed it before, and I wanted to be the first.”

            The first third of the climb was easy. The climb at that point stops on a landing, and most people in the city hiked up that far at least once. It was a really spectacular view. I remember looking above, and thinking the next hundred yards didn’t look very hard, but when I looked down, I got queasy. Some more adventurous souls climbed a bit further. But Kurt and Otto climbed almost to the very top, stopping only where the tower tapered into a smooth thick pole.

            Kurt smiled sheepishly. “It just didn’t occur to us until we got to the top that eventually we would have to come down.”

            The whole city had scornfully watched as Otto and Kurt stopped climbing with the crest almost within reach. But scorn turned to concern when the boys just stalled there, neither going higher nor coming back down.

            Otto added. “I almost fell a couple of times while we were climbing. I knew I would never survive climbing back down.”

            Nobody wanted to climb up after them. After a few hours, the engineers did something never done before or since: They lowered the artificial gravity to the whole city so that Kurt and Otto could simply jump down from 1500 feet and not be hurt.

            Kurt smiled brightly. “That was the coolest thing ever, sky diving without a chute or anything!”

            We all laughed.

            “My dad was SO mad,” I said, “but I was having so much fun, jumping over tall building in a single bound.”

            “Yeah, the way it ended was really fun, “Morina said, “but you guys really didn’t seem to be afraid of dying or anything, climbing up that tower.”

            Kurt was suddenly more serious. “Yeah, but it’s much different now. We were pretty stupid, and I guess I never really believed we could die.”

            Morina wanted to change the topic, so she started up the music cube. A mix of songs from the old world started playing with a full sound, but just quiet enough to talk over.

            “Oh I love this song!” I said, as Morina and I broke into a dance. We danced often together, so we were in perfect step as we rocked, bumped and flirted to the fast beat.

            Dancing was not the boys’ thing, so while we got a workout, they sat down on a clear spot of dirt and played a familiar strategy game using only the stones found near them.

            After three fast songs, a slow romantic song snuck into the mix, and Morina loved any excuse to slow dance with me. That meant touching. Honestly, I didn’t know if I liked that. It felt nice. It also felt weird. But I knew it meant a lot to Morina, so I was happy to do it, even if she got eager hands sometimes.

            “Remember when we all got together for the first time?” Kurt asked, speaking over the music.

            Of course we all remembered. We had all been very young, barely hitting puberty, and suffering from respiratory problems. In fact, most of the children of the new generation were feeling ill, but we were the sickest, so we were put in the same room in the hospital. Morina fell into a coma and nearly died there. This was the first of many times where Argo City was in a panic that the society might go extinct. The usual leaders came forth to shape public opinion. Jer-Em blamed Argo City’s sinful ways for the curse. The science Guild examined the problem, and found that the sickness was caused by the ground the children were playing on. Poisonous gases from deep within the asteroid were seeping through the terraformed land above. Once identified, engineers like Zor-El found ways to block the gasses, and life slowly returned to normal.

            Morina replied, “Yeah, that was a real scary time.”

            Kurt nodded. “I think that’s why I don’t feel so scared right now. I mean, back then everyone was thinking we were going to die, then the Science Guild found the answer in the last minute. I feel like the same thing will happen this time.”

            Otto added, “We were all together then. We are all together now. It feels the same.”

            “That’s right!” Morina agreed hopefully. She looked at me and asked, “The Guild is full of freaking geniuses. Kara, do you really think they can’t do anything to fix this?”

            Otto and Kurt turned to me as well. They all knew my family would be involved in any plan to save the city, and they assumed dad would tell me if he knew of anything. Maybe that’s why dad was keeping secrets.

            I shrugged, but tried to smile reassuringly. “My dad sounds grim, but he keeps telling me we’ll be ok. I think he has some ideas.”

            I felt a glimmer of hope sparking among us. I didn’t give them much, but it was the first hopeful thing they heard all day, so they seized on it.

            “Everyone says your father can create miracles,” Morena said, then she choked up a bit as I held her tight. “I mean … he created you. You are a miracle, Kara. I’m gonna miss you … I mean, I would if I could. I would miss you all so much.”

            “Oh my lord, Morena, shut up,” I sighed, as I embraced her. I squeezed my eyes tightly, and the only thought that pulsed through my mind like an angry prayer was, Dad you’d better be able to save us all!

           

            ***

            We met like that at the star strip every day for two weeks. The strip was not a private hangout, however, and several times ran across kids from other neighborhoods. They told us how the rest of our generation was holding up. Everyone was approaching these end times differently. One group of the really smart kids worked with the Science Guild, trying to figure out an answer. Another group devoted the rest of their lives to hedonism, while yet another spent every day in the temple.

            The adults at first obeyed the authorities’ call to keep going to work, but a few people at a time just stopped showing up. Argo City had plenty of food stored up to last the final few weeks, but the markets emptied quickly, so citizens crowded the storage houses, and many of us younger people went straight to the fields and orchards and picked our food directly from the plants.

            People still held onto their hopes. The glue that held society together was just a sticky mess, getting weaker by the day. The glue still held, but collapse felt imminent.

           

            ***

            One morning, my dad slept later than me for perhaps the first time in his life. He was working day and night, determined to not waste a single moment on transient things, but exhaustion finally claimed him and imprisoned him in sleep. He had collapsed in his workshop on a chair with his head hung at an awkward angle. I entered the room to find my mother dragging his chair towards a sofa. I helped her get my father into position and roll him onto the soft cushions, then cover him with a blanket.

            When I looked up at my mom’s face, I was surprised to see her smiling. No, more than smiling. I could see wonder in her eyes.

            “What is it, mom?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

            But mom turned away from me and walked towards her study under the observatory. Somehow I knew she wanted for me to follow her. So we walked down into a tunnel for a few dozen yards that led under the city dome, and then back up. The observatory was just outside the dome, where astronomers could observe the sky without interference. Once inside her study, she pressed a few buttons, and a very low rumble of machinery resonated through the room. She looked through a small eyepiece for a moment, then pressed a button, and an image popped up on the computer screen. Mom pointed at a blue and white dot blown up to the size of a fist. The planet looked pretty, but I saw no detail at all, just a splash of blue and white.

            Mom’s hands were shaking, like she wanted to talk so bad but couldn’t. Instead, she pressed another few buttons on a recording device, and turned up the volume.

            At first all I heard was an annoying whining sound mixed with random static. But as she raised the volume, I could hear faint voices mixed in with the noise. I had no idea what they were saying, but I could hear enough to know they were not speaking a Kryptonian language.

            “Is this coming from the blue planet?” I asked. Then it finally hit me what she was trying to say. “Is this … where we are going?”

           

            ***

            I wanted to wake dad and ask him many questions about what mom just showed me, but he needed to sleep so badly, I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. Instead, I left home when I heard a commotion from outside.

            About two blocks away from my home was a justice building where petty criminals were jailed, and dangerous criminals were sent into the Phantom Zone using special projectors.

            Protestors were gathered around the building peacefully, but with an intensity that made me nervous. Two armed guards blocked the entrance to the building, while Jer-Em led the crowd in solemn prayers and angry chants.

            They carried competing banners and chanted things like:

            "Live free, die free!"

            "Phantasy Zone!"

            "Trust in Rao!"

            "Let Science save us all!"

            Otto was there, standing alone and staying as far away from his dad as he could. I dodged my way through the crowd to him and asked him what was going on.

            Otto explained, “Some people are trying to organize what they are calling a ‘zone party.’ They want to spend as much time together before the meteors hit, and in the final few hours, pass together into the Phantom Zone. They hope if they pass together, at the same time, they can spend eternity together in the zone.”

            “That sounds so beautiful!” I replied weakly. I felt like crying. I had just learned about a blue planet 50 light years away, but that was just a blur in a telescope, a pipe dream. These people had a real plan. It felt so right and spiritual: all of us embracing our fate and sharing in it together. “What is the problem? Why are they protesting?”

            “My father,” Otto replied with the same shame he always felt when talking about his father. “He and the Religious Guild want to stop it. I think they want to destroy the projectors.”

            “Why the hell would they do that?” I replied loudly, deeply offended that anyone would try to prevent such a beautiful plan.

            “My father says that the projectors offend Rao, and that we all need to have faith in Rao’s plans for us,” Otto replied mockingly. “He says that some people putting their faith in technology could jeopardize Rao’s mercy towards us all.”

            “What mercy?” I almost shouted. Otto took a step back. He must have seen the anger in my eyes. “What right does he have to tell people what to believe?”

            Otto shrugged. “It’s all the same to me. Believing in an ancient god or having hope in some kind of interdimensional space that nobody understands. It’s all just wishful thinking if you ask me.”

            I lost my anger, but not my determination. “I don’t know. Maybe we are all lying to ourselves, but the zoners are acting out of love and putting their faith in each other. The Religious Guild wants us to fear Rao. If I’m going to die, I want to die with people who love, not with people who fear.”

            I stepped away from Otto and into the pro-zone crowd, and joined in with their chanting. A very old couple who looked like they have been facing death for a long time smiled at me and patted me on my back.

            Suddenly, the crowd yelled a little louder, and I noticed that Otto was standing beside me. The shame and indifference he showed a minute before was gone, replaced by a fervor and sense of rebellion.

            When Jer-Em looked our way from his prominent place among the opposing protesters, his eyes widened. Jer-Em had never shown any approval or pride in his son Otto, but after this, Jer-Em would disown his son completely. And Otto seemed completely OK with that.

            ***

            A week passed, and only a week remained. I barely recognized my neighbors anymore. Some people I had thought were gentle were now hostile. Others who were always the life of the party were now little more than zombies. The most rational among us abandoned their wits and gambled their souls on the craziest of superstitions. I wondered if I had changed, too.

            I wanted to spend more time with my parents, but my dad was obsessed with that blue planet, but wouldn’t talk about it to me, but demanded that I be excited about it, but forbid me to talk about it to anyone. When I told him I had to tell my friends (how could he ask me not too?), he slapped me hard in the face, then immediately apologized, but I was already out the door. Enough of that shit.

            As soon as I was out the door, I was accosted by Rella Jax-Ur, a neighbor my parents often entertained, and who had always been friendly to me since I was a child, but now she was frantic and pushy.

            “Oh there you are, little Kara,” she said, though I was almost as tall as she was now. “Where are you off to in such a big rush?”

            Not that it was any of her business, but I didn’t want to be as rude as she was being, so I answered, “I’m off to meet my friends.”

            “Playing with friends!” She sneered. “Don’t you think it’s time to put childish things behind? The day of reckoning is near.”

            I shrugged, “What is more important than being with friends? What would you have me do?”

            “Maybe attend the temple,” she offered. It almost seemed like an order. “We all need Rao on our side these days. In fact, your parents might do well to attend themselves. I haven’t seen them in town in weeks. They always seem hidden away at home. What are they working on so hard in there?”

            She ended that question with a nonchalant shrug, as if she didn’t really care, but the look in her eyes gave her away. That was the only question she cared about. Everything else she had said was small talk. She had waited outside my home, ready to ambush me with this question.

            Oh dad, you were right! What would happen if I told her the truth, that my parents were planning to escape Argo City, but only a few people could make the trip?

            I pretended I didn’t understand her question, and replied, “Maybe you are right, maybe we should stop being selfish and join the good people of Argo City in temple. I’ll talk to my parents as soon as I come back home later.”

            I began to walk away. Rella tried to continue the conversation, but I just ignored her and walked faster.

            The walk to the star strip was slow and nerve wracking, because the whole city was out in the streets. The crowds protesting at the justice building grew each day. Sometimes fights broke out, because workers stopped doing their jobs. Homes lost electricity, food and water. Everywhere I looked, I was reminded that the fragile bubble in which we were all living our lives was about to pop.

            I arrived late at the strip to find that Morina, Otto and Kurt were already there.

            “Did you run into any trouble on the way here,” Kurt asked.

            “No,” I lied, “everything is ok.”

            He nodded, understanding. There was something about how Kurt held his chin high and his shoulders broadly. Like everyone else in Argo City, Kurt had changed since this crisis began. He had morphed from a boy into a man overnight.

            Otto had changed, too, though even more recently. Since standing up to his father, he had stopped whining and started fighting for his own identity. He had joined the “Zone Party”, as they now called themselves. If these were his final days, he would face them on his own terms, not on his father’s.

            I hoped I was changing like them. I hoped I was becoming stronger, more mature, but I felt like I was sinking. I had never loved my friends more than I did right now, and the sadness and despair were always rising to the rim, ready to overflow. I didn’t want to be the little girl right then that brought everyone else down.

            Morina beat me to it. “Bullshit!” she said. “You can’t walk 10 feet through town without being assaulted, shoved or followed by some creep. And it’s only going to get worse.” She burst into tears.

            She was the first, but I followed just a split second later. Damn I wasn’t any stronger. The weight of everything had settled on me so slowly that I didn’t realize how heavy it was, until it took down Morina, and one by one we all collapsed under the weight. Kurt pulled both of us girls into a hug, and Otto joined in a moment later, like four tears merging into an ocean of sadness.

            ***

            35 hours and 26 minutes left before the first meteor would strike, according to my mom’s calculations. The first meteor would hit just outside of Argo City, causing what would feel like a severe earthquake, but that would only be a taste of what the next several meteors would bring.

            By now several people visited our home, asking what my dad was doing in secret. He had refused to tell, but earlier today a city official with police escort demanded entrance, and he had to relent. He led them under the observatory and into a bay where cargo ships once carried people and supplies from Krypton. Parts of several old space ships were littered around the bay, but one large missile was propped up in the open. The official asked what good one missile could do. Dad told the official that he was preparing the missile to strike one of the meteors, in the hopes it would disrupt the others, but it was a long shot. Really, if the official knew any better, he would realize that it was no shot at all, but for now he bought my dad’s explanation.

            As soon as the official left, dad seemed to panic. He knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered the truth. I couldn’t understand why the officials would not just let us try to escape. After all it was our rocket. But dad told me that in times like these, property meant nothing, and the rights society allows us are thrown out the window. Our rocket would become someone else’s property just like that.

            He leaned against the wall quietly, thinking for a long time and collecting himself, then was suddenly calm again and full of determination.

            “Did you eat anything this morning?” he asked mysteriously.

            I shook my head.

            “Good. Don’t eat anything, and relieve yourself if you need to. It is time, we can’t wait any longer. I’ll get the rocket ready.”

            “But...” I stared at him, shaking my head. “But we have more than a day left!”

            “We might not even have an hour,” he replied, and then turned away and briskly went about preparations.

            He didn’t give me a chance to respond, and he didn’t look at my face, but if he had, he would have seen the anger in my eyes. He couldn’t make me do this. He couldn’t force me to leave my friends. He never even asked me how I felt about this. I didn’t know what to hope for, because every hope seemed so hopeless. Could we really escape to that small blue planet, or would we be lost in space? If we did what Rao wanted, would we really see paradise, or was that just an old fable? Could my friends and I escape death in the Phantom Zone, and would that afterlife be more like Heaven or more like Hell?

            Right then I decided: my parents could try their luck on a new world, but I wanted to be with my friends in the Phantom Zone. If there was any chance to be with them, I wanted to take that chance.

            While dad busily prepared the rocket, I slipped outside and made my escape.

            ***

            Only about 100 yards from my home, a crowd that seemed impossibly massive was gathering at the justice building, where the Phantom Zone projectors were stationed. A few armed men guarded the building’s entrance, with dozens of angry Argonians standing in front of them, determined to protect the building and the projectors. Less than a stone’s throw away, an opposing team of angry Argonians gathered, led by Jer-Em. Yells and curses shot back and forth the divide like arrows.

            Many isolated people stood back at a distance, watching as the drama unfolded. Kurt-El was one such onlooker. As I approached him, I paused for a moment, because he looked very sad.

            “Kurt!” I yelled over the noise, “What is going on here?”

            He gestured towards the guards, and now I could see one of those guards was Otto. “The Religious Guild just demanded that the guards let them in,” Kurt replied. “They say they have the authority. But none of us respect their authority. This could get ugly.”

            “This is already ugly,” I replied. “Where is Morena?”

            Kurt stared at me for a moment, and when I asked that question, it was like I broke his heart. “She’s dead.”

            I shook my head, and all I could say was, “No!”

            “We found her this morning. I guess she took some pills to help her sleep.” He turned around as if trying to turn away from the truth. “She took too many.”

            I just starting weeping uncontrollably. “Why couldn’t she wait? We could have gone together.”

            Kurt-El shrugged. “Maybe hers was the best way. She went quietly.”

            “No!” I yelled, shoving him. “We need to do this together!”

            Kurt was as sad as I was, but I could see him trying to be strong for my sake. He said, “She went first, but maybe we’ll all be together again soon, wherever we are going.”

            Just then we heard a scream, and the two crowds crossed the divide. Some people fled, while others rushed into the fight. I could see Otto and the guards holding their ground until the fight reached them. It was only a matter of time for all of us, but the dying was already underway.

            Kurt wanted to join the fray, but I grabbed him and held him back with a tight hug. “Don’t you dare!”

            Then a fist wrapped around my wrist and pulled me away from Kurt. It pulled so hard I fell to the ground, but it did not release me. I looked up to see my father. His face was stern, like he was dealing with a disobedient infant. “Come with me NOW, Kara!”

            I wriggled and squirmed my way out of his grasp, and tried to hide behind Kurt.

            Dad’s voice softened and he pleaded. “Please, we don’t have much time. If you don’t leave now, I don’t think they will let the ship leave at all!”

            Kurt was as bewildered as he was anxious. “What does he mean, Kara?”

            “He thinks we can escape. He wants me to go to another planet,” I confessed. “But I don’t want to leave! I want to go with you and Otto!”

            Kurt shook his head and somehow managed to laugh despite everything that was going on around us. He pulled me in close and gave me a kiss so hard on my lips that I would have collapsed if he wasn’t holding me up. Then he handed me over to my father like I was a precious, delicate thing. He was smiling through his tears. “Don’t be crazy, Kara! Go with your father. He’s a genius. Otto will agree. I’d rather lose you now to any hope of a real future than die with you tomorrow. Zor-El, please take care of her.”

            Dad thanked Kurt, then Kurt charged head first into the brawl. That was the last I would ever see of him or Otto.

            I felt lost. I felt like Kurt had given up on me. I wanted to give up on everything.

            I did not fight as dad then dragged me back home. A man tried to stop us, but dad just shoved him out of the way. Once in our home, he bolted the door shut, and then barricaded the windows.

            Mom rushed into the room, tears in her eyes. I wanted to hug her badly, but I knew that was not her way.

            Someone banged on the door.

            Dad ushered me like a whirlwind down the hall, past the observatory, to the cargo bay, closing and locking every door behind him.

            The rocket was now on a stand, and the casing was wide open. For the first time I saw how small this rocket was. There was no spare room at all. And there was only one tiny mattress inside.

            “Are there any other rockets?” I asked.

            Dad nodded hurriedly, “We just need to get this one off before we put the others on the stand. So step inside.”

            I tried to step inside, but I couldn’t do it on my own. My dad lifted me up and set me down like putting a child into a carriage, then he strapped me in. He couldn’t look me in the eye, and he couldn’t keep his tears from flowing. I looked around the bay. Except for junk scattered on the floor, it was empty. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. “This is the only rocket,” I said, not really a question.

            Dad nodded, confessing now that I was strapped in and couldn’t fight him anymore. He still couldn’t meet my eyes. “Hold still,” he said, as he poked something into my arm, “this will help you sleep and feed you. This rocket is one of the fastest ever built, but even so, the trip will take more than 10 days.”

            “But what if I don’t get there? But what if get there, and the planet is empty?” Now I was more scared than sad. “I don’t want to die out there all alone!”

            “You will get there, I promise,” Dad said confidently, “and your mom is sure you will meet people there. Maybe you will even make new friends.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but his credibility was plummeting.

            My mom was standing beside him, nodding. She reached into the rocket and touched my hand. For her, that was an emotional outburst.

            Dad sealed the bottom part of the casing, then looked towards the hallway, listening for banging or some other sound of people coming. The bay was completely silent.

            He collected himself, and said, “Try to move on. Don’t live in the past. Turn your heart cold, and forget us when you can.”

            I shut my eyes in a hopeless attempt to stop the tears. “I can’t! I won’t. You can’t me make me forget my friends.” I opened my eyes and struggled in vain to reach out to him. “You can’t make me forget about you.”

            Dad insisted, “You must forget. Remembering will eat you up inside. Everything you want to remember fondly will burn you like acid. You will blame yourself for living, for not doing more to save your friends. You will hate yourself for never showing the love you could have shown, for never saying what you should have said. Believe me, I know. But you can never say enough or show enough love, so forget all of that. There is one big thing you can do for us and your friends, though, the only thing that means a damn anymore: You can live.”

            I tried to tell my parents I loved them, but no sound escaped my lips, and I was mute. I couldn’t see clearly, either. Everything was spinning. I felt like I was falling. This must have been the effect of the thing that dad poked into my arm.

            Mom and dad each held one of my hands, anchoring me for a minute, until I could hear yelling in the distance.

            Dad quickly sealed the last of the casing, leaving me in complete darkness. All I could hear now was a deep hum. All I could feel was a vibration, as the rocket rolled slowly on wheels beneath me. I seemed to be rolling forever. It rolled for so long I was sure that the door to the bay was broken down by now, and someone would stop my rocket from taking off. And I would be so happy to not be saved.

            But then the rocket stopped with a thud, and I felt my body shifting up at a high angle. With a massive thrust and a roar lounder than I could scream, I entered the abyss.

            ***

            In complete darkness, in complete silence, completely alone and drugged, I couldn’t tell when I was awake and when I was dreaming. Except that sometimes I was seeing outside my ship, at stars and planets, but the rocket had no windows. It was like I could see through the metal. So I must have been dreaming.

            Time kept on flowing without minutes, hours or days. Eventually I couldn’t feel my body anymore. I couldn’t hear anything at all, not even my breathing or my heart beat, and I still couldn’t speak. Was this what death is like?

            I couldn’t see the stars anymore. All I could see were colored shapes of memories like tiles spread out across the universe. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but I was not suffocating, just unable to take a breath.

            I felt sure I was either dead or going mad. I could see my own body floating naked like a fetus through space. I could see my friends floating by me, reaching for me before disappearing into the distance. Was I looking into the Phantom Zone? Was I looking into heaven?

            Then a long period of nothing but darkness and peace and sadness. Nothing. It was a relief. Except for a small itch on my foot that was driving me crazy.

            Gradually, one yellow star grew in my vision. I couldn’t be seeing it, but it felt so real and warm. I looked closely, and I thought I could see my father in the star, welcoming me, promising me that everything would be alright.

            Then a small blue dot became a big blue dot with beautiful whisps of white. I heard the first sounds in an eternity, as the hull of the rocket vibrated violently. The smell of burning air filled my nostrils, before a tremendous explosion slammed my body against the casing of the rocket, breaking the metal panels partially open, and the rocket came to a sudden stop. I felt a horrible pain for a moment, but then I felt perfectly fine. Energized even.

            I wanted to break out of my restraints and remove the tube from my arm, but I was afraid to move. The light outside pouring in was blinding. I wanted to block it or shut it off, but I couldn’t. I just wanted to hide again in the comfortable darkness.

            That way I remained until I heard a whooshing sound, and footsteps outside the rocket. Strong hands ripped the front of the rocket clean off, and a majestic man dressed in red and blue, bearing my family crest, reached inside and delivered me to the new world.

           

           


	2. A Supergirl Arises from the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Kara Zor-El first arrives on Earth in 1996, and she feels like anything but a Supergirl  
>   
>   
> 

            I sat on the bed in the dorm room, with the telephone in my hand. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. My first day with the earth people had been a disaster.

            I typed a number into the phone's keypad. The only thing I learned about so far in this crazy world was how to use a phone.

            "Hello. Daily Planet."

            "Is Clark there?"

            "Now listen, Miss Lee, you can't keep calling like this. I told you I'd tell Mr. Kent that you called. Now, Bye." Click.

            I felt a wave of desperation overwhelm me.

            I crushed the receiver in my hand and just wept. I didn't understand anything here. I could barely even speak the language. Fellow students asked about my accent, and I couldn't tell them where I came from. A young man wanted to walk me back to the dorm, and I accidentally knocked him to the ground; I didn't even understand my own body or my strength.

            I didn't even know how to kill myself.

 

 ***

 

            About four weeks ago, the last society of Krypton perished. A thousand Kryptonian refugees, who had lived for twenty-five years on an inhospitable asteroid under a red sun, finally succumbed. I was one of many desperate people in Argo City, all struggling against our fate. I was poor, hungry, and terrorized.

            But I also knew love.

            I had many friends whose love became stronger as the end neared. We sang often and danced until we could barely stand, when we finally collapsed and cried in each other's arms. That was how we stayed sane.

            And I had my father, Zor-El, who always tried his best to protect me from harm. My father promised me that I would live, and he worked day and night during those final days and hours to keep that promise. That was how he stayed sane, making my life his purpose. When my father said that he would save me by building a ship and sending me on the path that Jor-El coincidentally sent his son on many years ago, I kissed him and gratefully accepted the chance to live.

            Four weeks ago, our asteroid collided with a meteor shower. We had seen it coming weeks in advance, yet could only watch.

            I saw my people die. I sat in the spaceship and wondered why I was alive. I should have been with them. I should have been with my father. Why did I ever want to live through this?

            I was in shock for more than a week as the spacecraft rushed towards a small blue planet. Nothing could've prepared me for that trip. My life, my culture, my people, my universe—erased. And I was spinning in space in a tiny, black box towards a blue and white dot barely visible in our telescopes. I was drowning in emptiness, and disintegrating into the void.

            When my spaceship crashed on earth, a man in red and blue was already there at the site. It was Kal-El, the son of Jor-El. He called himself Clark and Superman. The legend took my shell of a person, brought me to his home, and helped me learn how to live again.

            He taught me simple things about Earth and tried to teach me English, but I couldn't pay much attention. My life was in shambles. He tried to lighten my spirits by showing me what we Kryptonians could do on Earth; I was amazed, but I knew my new powers couldn't reverse the holocaust that claimed my spirit if not my body.

            Two days ago, Kal-El enrolled me in a school called "Metropolis University" and told me that I would live there, now. Just like that!

            "I don't understand these people", I told him.

            "You need to learn," he replied, as though my life had undergone a minor change. "Just remember, your name is Linda Lee, and always wear the wig. Try to do what you see others doing. I'm sorry, but I am going to have to leave you alone for now."

            Kal-El had helped me overcome my culture shock. He understood my problems and my beliefs and some of my language. But Kal-El wasn't here, and I wasn't ready to step into this alien world. Maybe I would never be ready.

 

 ***

 

            Mary turned the dimmer switch and flooded the dorm room with light. The intense sensation overwhelmed my weary eyes.

            "Damn, Linda, what did you do to the phone?"

            Mary was my roommate. Mary and I did not hit it off very well.

            For one thing, Mary was black, and I had never seen a black person before. Kryptonians all had pale skin and blue eyes. I was shocked at the variety of people who lived at this college.

            When I didn't reply to Mary's question about the phone, Mary shook her head. "All right, I'll tell the office that it was broke already. Really, girl, you've gotta get a grip."

            Mary grabbed a few things off her dresser and hurried to leave. She stopped with the door half- open and glanced at me. Then she shook her head and left.

            I wanted to say good-bye, but I was afraid to say anything. I was afraid of making any more mistakes.

            I turned down the lights, again, and wanted to just hide, but I couldn't stop the chaos all around me. A million voices were speaking all at once, and I couldn't stop them, even by covering my ears. When I closed my eyes, I could see through my eyelids and into the next room. I couldn't tell Mary about that. Would she understand? She would think I was insane. I was begining to believe that I was.

            Someone was hitting the apartment door. I covered my ears. I wanted to shrink. I wanted to disappear. The banging started again. I looked through my tears, and I looked through the door, but all I saw was a skeleton.

            Kal-El stepped in from behind the door, and I think I flew over to him. I clung to him like a desperate child in danger. "Kal-El, I can't bear it here another minute!" I said in our native language.

            "Shh. Call me Clark and speak in English."

            My heart winced hatred towards him. He was the only person who could help me, and yet he forced me to be an impostor, even with him. But I could see his concern, so my heart opened up again.

            "I can't talk this English well." I said, trying to voice just one of my frustrations.

            He hugged me with one arm and sat me beside him on the bed.

            "It's OK, really. Earth has many languages you can hide behind. Tell people you come from a small village in Hungary. I've checked it out—very few Hungarians go to school here, and your accent sounds vaguely hungarian. Say 'Linda Lee' is a name you adopted for America. If you want, you can tell them your real name; I don't think most people will know the difference between a Hungarian and a Kryptonian name. But you should use the name 'Linda Lee'. People will know you are trying to fit in."

            I shook my head. "People don't know me a bit... And I don't control myself. I could hurt people." I grabbed my wig and threw it on the floor in disgust.

            He picked the wig up, carefully put it back on my head and began stroking the long brown hair. "You may not believe this, but some other students are having similar problems. This school has many foreign students, and many are having as much trouble with this culture and language as you are. You need some stability in your life right now, and so do many of the other students here.

            I shook my head in doubt.

            "Of course," he continued, "you have special problems, but you have special advantages, too. Be careful about your new powers. Try to limit physical contact until you understand your strength. You might practice holding animals before holding a friend's hand."

            I felt more relaxed with him here and with his advice. He had obviously thought a lot about my situation, even when he wasn't with me.

            I asked him to stay longer.

            "I'm sorry, but I have to be someplace. Several places, really."

            But he stayed for about an hour longer, and although I dreaded his departure, I felt more confident that I could handle my new life at least another day.

 

 ***

           

            For a second night, I couldn't sleep in the dorm. I could hear voices from the party on the second floor merging with the moans of love making down the hall. This time I didn't just lie there and bear it. I left the dorm with a blanket and decided to sleep in the lounge of the library. The library was open all night, but a librarian told me I couldn't sleep there. All the other buildings were locked. I was so tired and frustrated, I just walked out into the woods beside the campus. I slept at the foot of a tree on a mattress of leaves.

            While relaxing and preparing for sleep, I looked at the sliver of the earth's moon through the tops of the trees. Back home, we had a patch of woods; the smell of life and the sounds of animals and the gentle breezes all felt so familiar. But we didn't have a moon. I felt like I belonged here, in the woods, and the moon was the outsider.

            With this thought, sleep claimed my tired soul, and pleasant dreams filled my night.

 

 ***

           

            I awoke to the songs of birds. Bird songs were one of the few things about Earth that I really liked. The bright yellow sun illuminated the sky from an unseen horizon, and dew covered my bed of leaves.

            I stood up, stretched and yawned, and, amazingly, I felt really good.

            I brushed off my pajamas and headed for my dorm.

            A few dozen of the fifteen thousand students were trudging quietly about campus. I guessed that the rest were asleep.

            Several people stared at me. I must have stood out in by wearing pajamas and carrying a blanket. I didn't care.

            I took the stairs instead of the elevator. One glance through the stairs above showed me that I was the lone occupant. I felt a little playful, and I slowly hovered up the stairwell. Kal-El had made it seem easy, but I was bumping against the walls and banisters as I rose. It was my first time, and I couldn't help giggling like a little child doing something naughty but wonderful.

            But when I landed, I felt a wave of guilt shake my body, as though a thousand deaths paid for each smile on my face. I paused for a moment and remembered a few of my father's last words to me, "You've always lived in fear of death, Kara, and just once I'd like to see you smile a truly happy smile." I felt dizzy as my father's sacred words battled a thousand cries of blame.

            I walked down the hall and met Mary getting dressed in our dorm room.

            "Where were you, girl?" She said, looking at my dirty pajamas and ruffled hair.

            I didn't know what to tell her, so I just said, "Hi, Mary."

            She shook her head. "You gonna get yourself raped, running around dressed like that."

            "I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. I felt the peace I awoke with evaporating.

            Mary sighed. "Nothing to be sorry about. Hey, Linda I'm just your roommate, not your mom."

            I smiled and thought about what to say, then decided on: "I like you, Mary."

            She seemed amused. "You are OK, too."

            "I want a shower," I said, as I opened my bureau and thought about what I needed. A towel, some soap and some fresh clothes. One of Kal-El's friends picked out my clothes, but I barely understood how to wear them, much less match them fashionably. I also had a makeup kit that I was afraid to even open. I liked the perfume, though. Mary had said I used too much.

            "You and everyone else," Mary said. I shook my head, not grasping, so she continued, "You've got four girls ahead of you for the shower."

            I dropped the towel on my bed and sat down across from a mirror on the wall. I looked at my hair in the mirror, and saw a few blonde hairs mixing in with the brown hair from the wig. I fixed the wig and wondered how I was going to keep it a secret from Mary. (Why was I even keeping my hair color a secret, Kal-El, when many Earth girls have blonde hair?)

            "Linda, would you like to eat breakfast with me and my friends?"

            I must have looked nervous. Eating Earth food was really weird for me. The food was shocking: For dinner yesterday, I ate "spaghetti and meatballs" and had to use a "fork" and "spoon" and "knife". I couldn't figure out how to eat the spaghetti, and just the idea of eating meat disgusted me. I only drank some juice and ate some bread. If I had to eat with other people, I'd be very embarrassed.

            When I didn't respond immediately, Mary pressed on, "I don't think there's a Hungarian crowd that you can eat with, but you got to eat with someone. Really, I'd like you to come."

            I nodded and smiled despite myself.

 

            Mary's friends were all black, and I was the only white person at the table. But I guess I would've attracted attention no matter where I sat. Mary pointed out that the combination of my crucifix necklace, my "Black Sabbath" T-shirt with a big "666" between my breasts, and my long checkered skirt, was a "little weird". I thought the clothes were comfortable but decided to change them after breakfast, anyway.

            Hotcakes weren't bad. At least I didn't drop them on my lap like I had with the spaghetti, yesterday.

            Mary's friends were funny and they smiled a lot. They made me feel comfortable. They said they were "juniors" and that I was a "freshman", and that was why I was so nervous. I felt better knowing there were thousands of nervous freshmen on campus.

 

            Back in the dorm, I changed into a yellow blouse that hugged my skin and a short black skirt. A very short skirt. I saw another girl wearing something similar yesterday, so maybe I was OK. I've learned already to not wear those thick white socks with my shoes.

            While showering earlier, I watched a girl putting on lipstick, so now I decided to try it myself. Most students were at their first class already, so I had the bathroom to myself, and I spent a long time getting the lipstick just right. The girl had put on other makeup as well, but I knew my artistic limits.

            I headed off to class with a pack full of books. I took all of my books, since I didn't know which ones I would need. They felt so light on my back, it never occurred to me that other girls would have collapsed under the weight.

 

            My first class was in an auditorium with 300 students. "Anthropology 105: Society and the Individual." I was fascinated, since the professor was teaching us about how America works in a way I could understand. He even explained the words he used that I didn't understand. This was the first time I felt engrossed with one of my classes.

            But I was also aware that many people were looking at me out of the corners of their eyes. At first I thought that I had broken another rule of etiquette, until it struck me that only men were looking at me. One of them was trying to look up my skirt. I shifted my position, but the tiny skirt provided little cover when I was sitting down. Why did girls wear them, anyway?

            I felt better when I saw that men were looking at some other women, too. I didn't want any attention, really, but, I thought, at least the attention was normal. I guessed that while we seemed to be in class to learn about Anthropology, the men were in the class to learn about the girls.

            Just when that thought occurred to me, the professor said jokingly, "Anthropology is the 'Study of Man,' but don't worry, we'll be studying women, too." I started to giggle at the coincidence, and I felt several men's eyes riveted to me.

 

            My 5:30 class was "English 101." This class scared me because the professor had us read several pages immediately, in class—and all I saw on those pages were wiggly lines. Only about thirty people attended this class, and we were sitting in a large circle around the classroom, so everybody could see each other. I was terrified that people would find out about me. I was so nervous that I wasn't learning a thing.

            Only one man was watching me in this class, since the class was mostly female. He had dark hair and thin eyes, and he couldn't have been any taller than me. I caught him looking up my skirt, and watching me almost constantly during the class.

            When class was over, he came up to me. He seemed as nervous as I was. He said, "Your face is very familiar. Do I know you?"

            I was surprised, and I said, "I don't know."

            He seemed pleased by my reply, so he introduced himself. His name was Ge Hun Si. He came from Thailand, but his father was Chinese.

            I told him the story Kal-El gave me. "I'm Linda Lee. I came here from Hungarian."

            "Hungary." He corrected.

            "No, I ate dinner before."

            He thought I was joking, so he laughed and I laughed with him.

            "This English is tough," he offered.

            I nodded enthusiastically, delighted to find someone who agreed with me. I said, "This class is ... hard for me."

            "Me, too." He smiled, then hesitated. "Maybe we should help each other with our homework."

            I was extremely relieved by the offer. I nodded and said "Yes, very much... I would like that."

            He smiled and looked almost shocked, as though people never studied together. He offered to carry my books. I hesitated, but let him anyway. He could barely lift the pack but seemed determined to carry the pack regardless.

            As we walked towards my dorm, the sun was setting, and the sky was turning a beautiful color of red—just like the sky under Krypton's sun.

            "You are very pretty." He said, as I was reminiscing.

            "Thank you," I said, surprised by the compliment. I knew that Kryptonian men had found me attractive, but I didn't know for sure about Earth men, or Asian men, for that matter. I said, "You are pretty, too."

            He shook his head. "Pretty?"

            "I'm sorry. You are handsome."

            He smiled.

            Ge Hun Si told me about his journey to America while we walked to my dorm. He lived in Bangkok his entire life, but his family was Chinese. He learned some English at school, but he didn't learn it very well. His mother and sister were helping him pay for school, and he was very embarrassed about it. He said he didn't mind coming to the strange world of America, because he felt like a stranger in his own country. He always wanted to live in Taiwan and practice psychology, but his debt to his mother and sister would force him to return to Thailand, where he would probably live the rest of his life as a civil engineer.

            I didn't understand much of what he was saying. I sympathized with his story, but I felt voiceless to express my own. I wanted to tell him about my life and my losses, but I couldn't. (Why, Clark? Why do I have to live a secret life?) Yet I believed in Clark's wisdom, so I held back. I thought about telling Ge Hun Si that I was an orphan, but then he would want to know more. I had to keep the pain to myself, at least for now.

 

            Mary was in the dorm when we arrived. She was reading from a large text book and was startled to see me.

            "Hi Mary," I said, not knowing enough yet to introduce my new friend.

            She nodded, as she stared at my clothes for a moment, then she looked straight at Ge Hun Si.

            He put down the book-bag, introduced himself, and they shook hands. He told her of our plans to study together.

            Then Mary left with book in hand, saying, "I'll go study in the lounge."

            Ge Hun Si and I were alone, now, and I didn't know what to say. Back home I would ask him to pet our cat—a person didn't feel welcome in someone's home unless the cat welcomed him. But, of course, we didn't have a cat in the dorm. I would also ask him to take off his shoes, but I didn't know if Earth people had the same custom. All I could think of was, "Do you want to study, now?"

            He shook his head, "Sure."

            It took me a moment to figure out that he meant "yes".

            I grabbed the book bag (I should have pretended that it felt heavy), and I opened it while sitting down on my bed. I had to guess which book was my English book.

            Ge Hun Si looked at me with a strange expression, and then he sat beside me and fetched his own book.

            He was holding the same book, so I knew that I guessed right. But what next? I couldn't pretend that I could read for very long, but I didn't want to tell him the truth. Several times today, I fantasized hopefully that many students couldn't read English. Maybe even he couldn't read English, and we were both foolishly feeling the same fear.

            I noticed the sweat on his forehead, and the way he clenched his hands. This gave me the courage to tell him.

            "Ge Hun Si?"

            "Yeah."

            "I can't read."

            He laughed a short laugh, and then said, "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I also couldn't read English until three years, ago. This class is going to be much harder for you than for me."

            That wasn't very reassuring, and I think he saw my frown. I had a sudden nightmare that lasted for about a second: Ge Hun Si told some college authority about my illiteracy, and they threw me out of the dorm and into the unknown again. I dismissed the fear, but I never could be sure if I was being paranoid or not.

            Ge Hun Si put down his book and asked, "You can't read at all?"

            I shook my head.

            "Then you shouldn't be taking this English course," he said with some regret in his voice. "The university has courses for English as a second language. One of my neighbors is taking such a course. You don't have to know English at all."

            "You are sure?" I asked, my confidence returning.

            "Yeah, I'll help you add one tomorrow, if you want."

            I nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

            "We can take a trip to the book store after, and exchange your book."

            "OK," I said, but I didn't really understand what he was saying. The light in the room was bothering me. I turned the dimmer, until the bulbs changed from white down to a shade of orange, and the corners of the room were almost black.

            Ge Hun Si face was blank with surprise, and I guessed that I broke another rule of etiquette by turning the light so low. "I'm sorry. The light was hurting my eyes. Is it OK?"

            He nodded and started to take the books off the bed.

            I just watched him and thought about how differently everything must have seemed to him. He couldn't hear the background sounds of people chatting in other rooms, or see the moon through the ceiling. I thought of how very strange I had become.

            He looked shyly away and said, "I'll need another reason to visit you, now that we won't be going to the same class."

            Stupidly, I thought he was saying that he wouldn't be visiting me anymore. I had expected this, yet I was stunned all the same. "I understand," I said, while clenching my hands together. "I should have said the truth before. I wanted to ... to ..."

            I started shaking, and I couldn't control my vision; I felt some of the same helplessness that had possessed me yesterday. My first new friend was already rejecting me.

            Ge Hun Si took my hand in his and said, "You don't need to say anything at all."

            He held my hand like an egg—as if it was a fragile thing. I felt a calm sweep over me, but I didn't know why.

            Later, I would understand what this situation meant. I'd understand why he wanted to help me with my homework in my dorm room, and why Mary had left us alone. I could hardly believe it. In my native world, when men wanted to make love to me, they just asked. Now, they try to have it happen by "accident". I guess I was the perfect girl for this ritual, because I was not expecting a thing.

            Then again, he was not getting what he expected either.

            After caressing my hands like holy objects, I felt all my stress melt away. He looked into my eyes, and I felt my legs go weak. I had been trying so hard to just fit in and understand the people around me, I hadn't thought about being intimate. But from somewhere down deep, desire rose like a whale surfacing from the ocean. The chaos of my emotions rapidly became a focused hope of passion. When he finally kissed me, I felt paralyzed by desire and fear of expressing it.

            His intoxicating scent and minty breath put me under a spell. Much later, I learned that earth men didn't smell that good in nature, but for now I was awed by their attractive powers. As he explored my mouth with his lips and tongue, I was careful not to kiss back.

            He urged me back onto the bed and slid on top of me. He kissed my lips and then my cheeks, then my eyelids, my ears and then my neck. When his lips settled on one spot, his hands continued to explore. His body rubbed against mine, and I could feel his erection through both of our clothes.

            I didn't do a thing. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hug him and kiss him back, but I was afraid of what I might do under the influence of passion.

            He was stroking my hair as he kissed me, when my wig loosened.

            His eyes brightened at the discovery, as my blonde hair spread out of the wig onto the sheets. "What a beautiful secret." He kissed my hair, and then began to unbutton my blouse. "What other secrets do you have in here?"

            He struggled with my shirt for a moment, but then just tore it open.

            I didn't wear a bra, so there was little suspense as my breasts were instantly and fully revealed. He began sucking on my nipples hungrily, as I pinned my arms to my side. It took all my energy not to touch him, but the restraint actually felt exciting and a little kinky. I was the object of his lovemaking, and I found this passive role thrilling. His hands slid my skirt down from my waist, while he worked on my nipples with his tongue.

            He didn't look surprised that I wasn't wearing panties (actually, I didn't even know what bras or panties were, yet). I kept my legs open as he dived between them. He kissed my thighs for a moment, but then, losing patience, he buried his face down deep. This was a new kind of lovemaking for me—a wonderful shock—and I couldn't keep my legs from shaking. But I managed to keep them from crushing him within. His tongue explored both deep and all around, then he focused on my clitoris and sent small explosions of pleasure throughout my body, before he began climbing up my body again.

            I hadn't noticed that he had lowered his jeans while he was working on my passion. Once again, his mouth explored mine. I could taste some of myself on his lips. Then I felt his penis enter me. Something should have alerted me, but I guess I was consumed by desire. He stroked my hair, fondled my breasts and kissed me, while his penis massaged my insides. What a sensation!

            Then his body shook, and he let out a groan. I was instantly alert and alarmed. I had felt my muscles compress on his penis. My legs and my arms and my lips obeyed my will of submission, but my muscles inside had a will of their own.

            I was terrified by what I saw. His penis looked misshapen and wrinkled. I felt like a monster, and I turned away.

            "What happened?" I said, pretending ignorance, not knowing what to say. I fidgeted with the torn remains of my blouse.

            He winced in pain, then smiled at me with an embarrassed smile. "I don't know. I think I twisted it or something. I'm sorry."

            He didn't sound like I imagined a mutilated man would sound, so I looked again at his penis. I felt a great weight lift from my conscience when I saw that he was wearing a flesh-colored rubber cover over his penis, and the organ underneath looked normal.

            But I knew I had hurt him, even if he wasn't hurt bad. And I could have injured him much more seriously. What if I had kissed him back? or embraced him? I covered my face with my hands, and lamented in Kryptonian, "I am a monster!"

            Ge Hun Si sat beside me and hugged me. He tried to comfort me, yet he couldn't understand my anxiety.

            "What's wrong, Linda?" he whispered while kissing my hair. "I'm sorry I messed up. I'm not very experienced at sex. I guess I was eager. I promise I'll do better next time."

            I saw his embarrassment. He didn't understand. "We can't do this, again."

            He shut his eyes, and sighed. "That's OK. But I hope you will change your mind, because ... I like you very much."

            I smiled and saw the honesty in his eyes. We spent a silent minute, just looking into each other's eyes. Obviously, he didn't think I was a monster.

            "You don't know me at all." I said.

            "I know you are a nice person. I know you are very attractive, and I know we feel good with each other."

            I nodded, and I decided. "I want to tell you the truth."

            "The truth?"

            "You can't tell anyone!" I turned cautious, afraid of making another mistake—yet determined to tell him, nevertheless.

            "Sure. Of course. What's the big secret?"

            "I'm not Hungarian," I said, hesitating, "and my name is really Kara."

            He nodded. "OK, then Kara. Where ARE you from?"

            "A place called Argo City. People here would say I'm a Kryptonian."

            He nodded unconsciously, and then just stared at me for a moment. "You mean where Superman came from?"

            "Yes," I said, and I felt relief that now someone knew.

            He shook his head in silence, then said, "oh, poor Linda. I had no idea. You are going to need some help."

            I nodded, "Yes, it's hard." Did he really understand?

            He was quiet for a long time. "I think we should go see someone," he finally said while rising from the bed. "Do you feel up to meeting someone, now?"

            I stood up, myself. "You said it was secret."

            "He will keep it a secret. Helping people with secrets is his job."

            "Can he help me control what I see and hear?" I asked while finding a new shirt and dressing myself again. "I am always hearing things and seeing things that aren't even in the room."

            He looked concerned. "I hope he can, Linda. I really do," he said as he dialed a number on the new telephone.

            "Thank you," I said, while fixing my wig.

            "What for?"

            I shrugged, "Just thank you."

 

            Ge Hun Si was awfully quiet, as we left the dorm. I thought he would have a lot of questions, but just asked me how I felt. I said I felt fine, but he acted like I was in pain. He held me in half an embrace while we walked.

            He treated me with such care that I actually felt physically vulnerable. As we walked along the moonlit street, I felt comforted by his sheltering arm. His arm protected me from the stares of strangers, and ghosts that had followed me to earth.

            "Where are we going," I asked, noticing that we were leaving campus grounds.

            "His office is off-campus," he replied.

            The scenery was changing. Now, many cars were parked along the side of the road, and all the buildings had lit signs. A lot of noise was coming out of a large, rusty blue vehicle.

            A few men got out of the vehicle. They smelled funny, and they looked a bit dizzy. Ge Hun Si did not look at them, but he urged me to move faster.

            "Where's the fire, slant eyes," one said.

            Another said nothing, but spouted out words and obscenities rapid fire, as though he lived in accelerated time.

            A third ran out in our way, forcing us to pause. Obviously, they meant us no good, but I didn't know what they wanted.

            Ge Hun Si was sweating, as he whispered in my ear, "Run, Linda." And he stood in an odd stance.

            "Oh, the china man thinks he's a karate expert," the largest one said, and he took a similar stance, but he appeared much more confident than Ge Hun Si.

            Ge Hun Si muttered a curse I couldn't understand. He was panicky. "Run Linda, now!"

            One of the men grabbed my arm, and I had an impulse to hit him. But I would probably have killed him. Maybe he deserved it, but I couldn't understand why they were attacking us, and I was afraid he was just a victim himself. Maybe he was like we were on Argo City during those last few days, driven mad by our terrifying destiny.

            I ignored his hand, and I put my arms around Ge Hun Si.

            "I'm sorry, I wish I could ..." Ge Hun Si began, then stopped as we levitated off the ground. I struggled to keep our flight steady. I bumped his head off a tree limb ("Sorry"), and then settled us on a nest of intertwined branches.

            Our attackers stood as still as statues, and then one said to the others, "Damn, did she just do that, or am I just too stoned."

            No one answered him, and the stunned druggies got back in their van.

            Ge Hun Si touched the bump on his head. He looked at me in disbelief himself. Then he said, "You were telling the truth."

            "Of course," I said, wondering why he thought I lied.

            He touched my cheek, as awe filled his face. "I thought you were a special girl, but I couldn't believe you were a supergirl."

            "Supergirl?" I asked, smiling at the idea.

            "Yeah, MY Supergirl." He removed my wig and ran his hands through my hair, "with her super hair of gold."

            I felt a burst of confidence, and I leaned forward to kiss him. He didn't scream in pain, as I curled my lips around his. Then when I embraced him, I didn't hear him struggle for breath.

            "Don't worry," he said, "Nothing could make me tell your secret."

            "You don't want to tell anyone?" I asked, suddenly tempted by the idea of telling all of earth.

            He shook his head. "Supergirl will belong to the world some day, but I want you for myself."

            I smiled, and we had a special few minutes up in that tree.

 


	3. My Heart Of Steel Is Like Putty In Your Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Linda falls for the wrong guy, and discovers love is more dangerous than kryptonite  
>   
>   
> 

"Hey there! Where you at girl?" Mary asked, bringing Linda back to her senses. She had been looking beyond Mary, out into space -- literally. She was looking through the cafe walls, beyond the buildings of Metropolis University, right on out into outer-space.

       "I was just thinking about home," Linda said, then she laughed. "Funny huh? I mean, all my friends and family are right here, now, and I never felt so free and happy as I do right now, but I feel like my heart is tugging me home."

       "You better put a leash around that heart of yours, 'cause nostalgia ain't none of what its cracked up to be," Mary said with her finger pointed right in Linda's face, making her quiver and nod her head in agreement. "This is your new home now! Hell, you've been here a year already -- how can you even remember your old home? From what ya've told me, _why_ would you _want_ to remember it?"was 

       "I don't know," Linda replied quietly. She loved her new friends. Maybe she could love them as much as her old friends, and her life was undeniably better, but she felt something was missing.

       Back in Argo City, Linda (or Kara) had been just barely a woman at 17, and that meant she had two strikes against her. Her native culture was strongly patriarchal, and extremely disciplinary towards its youth. These traditional attitudes became all the stronger with the intense pressures of a doomed society, so that even Kara's father, Zor-el who loved her more than his own life, would strike her without thinking if she disobeyed him.

       What a surprise it was when she arrived in Metropolis, where women and men were nearly equals, and the professors never talked down to their students. Linda had always dreamed of such a place, but she could never quite get used to being told to think for herself and assert herself.

       "Oh, shit!" Mary suddenly cried out, causing Linda to jump up in her seat.

       Everyone in the cafe seemed to jump at once, when a young bearded man, who looked a little too rough to be a college student, came charging out of the men's room waving a knife in the air.

       Hurrying after him was another man, also waving a knife.

       That's what everyone saw.

       Everyone but Linda, that is.

       Linda was stunned by the sight of this second man, who had long dark hair, and an imposing chin. He wore an old black jacket that had long since lost it's shine, fashionably torn jeans, and a sparkling white t-shirt, no design. He looked so much like many of the young, intense men she remembered from back in Argo City that she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His eyes were fearless and fierce. His body was rippling with energy. And his boorish, simple clothing showed impeccable taste, she thought.

       Even the sound of his voice transfixed her, when he cursed at the bearded man: "Stay where you are, pussy, and get what's coming to you!"

       Apparently the bearded man wasn't listening as closely as Linda was, because he tried his best to get away.

       He ran straight towards Linda.

       Mary and everyone else scattered, clearing an escape route for the pursued man, but Linda just stood there, doing exactly as she was ordered. She stood right there, as both men charged her way, and she got what was coming to her.

       A knife to her neck. The bearded man, in desperation, grabbed her, pressed the blade of his knife to her throat, and he held her between himself and the other man, the man Linda had fallen in love with in a heart beat, who stopped only a few feet away and stared into her eyes.

       She felt her knees go weak and her palms wet with perspiration. Maybe these were normal reactions for someone in her delicate situation, but she was not feeling normal feelings.

       "Stay the fuck away from me, or I swear I'll kill her," spat the bearded man right in her ear.

       Suddenly, the other, wonderful man seemed to have forgotten his anger, and Linda searched his eyes. Was he as taken by her as she was by him? Or was he just worried for her safety, like he'd be worried for any other woman whose life was threatened? There was a third possibility that never occurred to her.

       "Leave her alone . . . please!" Linda heard Mary yell.

       Linda tore her eyes away from her loved one and sought out Mary. "Don't worry, Mary. He won't hurt me."

       Then she felt the knife dig into her throat, and the bearded man spitting into her ear, again. "That's right, honey, if everyone doesn't back off right now, I'll gonna cut you so hard and so fast that your head'll fall right off. Won't hurt a bit."

       Everyone took a step back, including her dream lover, the man with the concerned eyes. He caught the bearded man's attention, directed it towards his knife, and lowered it to the ground.

       "Wise move, Sam," the voice spitted into her ear again, and Linda felt herself being pulled backwards.

       Sam, Linda thought will irrational glee. She loved the name, and she repeated it over and over in her mind. Sam. Sammy. Samuel. Samu-El.

       "Now we're just gonna walk slowly out of here, pretty girl, into my car," the man who wasn't Sam whispered in Linda's ear. Then he spoke more loudly for everyone to hear, "And don't anyone think of following us, if you hope to see her alive again!"

       Linda felt her heart aching, as she was pulled away from Sam. She saw the desperate, concerned, furious, defeated look in Sam's eyes. She hated that look. It did not fit him at all. She wanted to see the brave, confident man she saw just a few moments before.

       Then, without really thinking, she knew what to do. She pretended to slip or trip over something. Her would be captor was startled, and in an effort to avoid cutting her neck accidentally, he dropped the knife.

       When Linda looked up, her brave hero was on top of him, pounding his bearded face with fist after fist until Sam's hands were bloody, and the bearded man lay writhing on the floor.

       "Oh my God, Linda! Are you OK?" Mary cried out as she helped Linda off of the floor.

       Linda felt weak and just a little dizzy, but she nodded, "Yeah, I think so."

       "Oh, God, you are so fucking lucky Linda! You should be dead right now."

       Linda didn't feel so lucky. She glanced over at Sam, feeling a little sad because he seemed to have forgotten all about her. He was talking to a policeman, now, who had just arrived at the scene. Sam didn't even look at her once.

       "Are you sure you are OK, Linda?" Mary asked again, looking at her carefully.

       Linda looked back at Mary and nodded her head, again.

       "I can't believe you got away with just this little scratch," Mary marveled.

       Linda's eyes opened wide, and she gasped. "Scratch? What scratch?"

       Mary consoled her, "Don't worry, it's nothing."

       "He cut me?" Linda seemed panicky.

       Mary touched Linda's neck and showed her a tiny drop of blood on her fingertip. "See? It's nothing. It's not even worth putting a band aid on."

       This time Linda wasn't acting when her legs gave out beneath her. She felt her heart suddenly race and her mouth dry up. "What happened?" she asked to no one in particular. "He could have killed me!"

       "Shh," Mary said, consoling her as best she could. "It's over now."

       Linda looked in her eyes and shook her head. "No, no. He _really_ could have killed me!"

       Then Linda felt a strong hand on her shoulder. It was him, Sam. She looked up at him, caught between an irrational feeling of love that swept over her, and the sudden terror of knowing how close to death she had come. She didn't know which feeling made her feel weaker just then.

       Sam glanced at Mary. "She OK?"

       Mary looked back at him suspiciously, but she was polite. "I dun know. I think she's in shock."

       Sam helped Linda up, and she immediately leaned into him, closing her eyes, clinging to him.

       "Linda?" Mary asked, surprised. "Come on, I think maybe I should take you home."

       But Linda clung tightly to Sam. Maybe she couldn't even hear Mary's voice -- at least she didn't respond to it.

       All she could feel was Sam's leather jacket, smooth against her finger tips. She felt Sam's breath in her hair. She felt Sam's reluctant arms come around her and hold her.

       And she felt the rising erection of Sam's dick, even through layers of clothes, brushing against her hip.

       "You were very brave back there . . . Linda, right?" Sam asked gently, though he was awkward at gentleness. It didn't sound right. It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

       But Linda didn't notice. She whispered, "Thank you. Thank you very much for saving me."

       "Hold on, there, girl!" Mary said sternly, trying to get her friend's attention. "He didn't save you. Damn, he and that other guy nearly got you killed!"

       "Hey!" Sam objected. "I never meant to hurt anyone, except that killer -- yeah! He's a killer. He killed two of my buddies, and I wanted to make sure he paid for that. But the last thing I wanted was for your friend Linda to get hurt."

       Mary ignored him. "Common, Linda, let's go home."

       Linda shook her head. She felt weak and scared, and she just wanted to hide. She wanted to hide in Sam's arms. She wanted to escape into his life, wherever he lived it. She wanted him, whoever he was.

       And she sensed that he wanted her, too. It was not just a subtle feeling. It was hard physical reality.

       "She obviously wants to be with me right now," Sam told Mary. "Maybe she needs to take a short walk to help her get over this, then I'll take her home."

       Take her to Sam's home, that is. And then just take her.

       Linda was shocked and confused, but she was never confused about that.

       In fact, walking with him like this felt oddly familiar.

       Sam was very sweet for a while. He understood that Linda had just gone through something traumatic, so he was gentle with her, holding her in a half embrace as they walked under the setting sun, away from the college, and towards his home in Metropolis. He couldn't resist letting his hand wander, feeling the side of her breast, or the curve of her ass.

       Linda liked the attention, and she was thrilled that he was excited by her.

       At the same time, though, she was troubled by what nearly happened. What was wrong with her? She felt very weak, even for an earth woman, and she knew from her cut that she was vulnerable. She couldn't hear beyond the normal human range, and she couldn't see through anything thicker than paper.

       What happened? Would she ever get her powers back?

 

* * *

 

       Sam lived in a dirty, uncared for studio apartment, out of character with his good taste in clothes. He hung pictures of beautiful women on his walls, all of them nude, all of them in compromising positions. Upon seeing them, Linda crossed her arms in front of herself. Another wave of dizziness swept over her, and she had to reach out to Sam for support.

       Beer cans were lined up around the room, like they were decorations. Carelessly tossed among them were a few trophies -- she couldn't tell what they were for.

       Linda noticed a tray of kitty litter, so she knew there must be a cat around, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

       Laying out in the center of the small apartment was a double bed, unmade, with sheets that couldn't have been cleaned in weeks. Linda didn't want to look at it. She didn't really want to look at anything in this room, which seemed so hostile to her.

       Except for Sam, whose arm sheltered her, and who looked at her warmly. Maybe a little too warmly. The arm that sheltered her also explored her, brashly stroking her breast through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, so he had easy access to her nipple.

       She wasn't wearing her Supergirl uniform, either. She almost never wore it under her clothes, anymore, because it was impossible to hide while trying to be fashionable. Instead, she kept it folded up in her purse.

       "My purse!" Linda cried out, as Sam's hand tried to slip under her shirt. She pulled away slightly.

       "What about it?" he asked with a hint of amusement, perhaps thinking that Linda was gonna try to play a little hard to get, a little too late.

       "I left it in the cafe," she replied, backing away slowly from Sam, who was walking towards her, even though she was only a few inches away.

       "We have to go get it," Linda insisted unconvincingly, as Sam backed her into the wall. She straightened up instantly. Her eyes were captured by the eyes of her predator.

       "Why? What's in it?"

       That shut Linda up. She couldn't tell him that.

       But he wanted to make sure she stopped talking, so he filled her mouth with his tongue.

       She couldn't even think about the purse now, as wave after wave of sensation filled her body, exciting her, paralyzing her.

       Finally Sam went for her shirt, lifting it quickly, while still kissing Linda, muting any possible objections. Far from object, Linda made his job easier by lifting her arms.

       Off came the shirt.

       And off came the wig.

       Linda didn't even notice until Sam paused and stared at her in awe and recognition.

       "What?" she asked a little panicked, thinking she knew exactly what.

       He shook his head, and said, "You look so familiar."

       He took a step back and looked her over, the blonde hair, the stunning face, and the round, firm breasts.

       "Damn, you are hot!" he said. "You look just like one of the Penthouse Pets Of The Month from last year, I think, but I can't remember which one."

       Linda sighed, and he interpreted that as an invitation to escalate -- not that Sam would have waited for an invitation, anyway, she thought.

       He nearly swallowed her nipple, sucking it hard, making Linda gasp, as he fumbled with her shorts and panties, pushing them down together until they stopped at her sneakers. She slipped her feet out of the loose fitting sneakers, and he slid her garments completely off, leaving her completely naked, except for a pair of socks.

       Then, to Linda's shock, Sam grabbed her shoulders roughly and tossed her on the bed. She hit the firm mattress with a smack, sending a concussion through her not- so-super body that was almost painful, but strangely exciting.

       Sam grabbed her legs and forced them open, making Linda gasp with surprise. Her eyes were half open with anticipation. She wanted for him to touch her, to taste her, to tease her with his tongue. That was the kind of love- making she had become accustomed to, since she had landed on earth a year ago. Good old fashioned intercourse was forbidden, because of the harm a pussy-of-steel could do to an ordinary man's dick.

       But Sam did not know about that. He dove right in, and started pumping away, putting all of his strength into each thrust.

       Linda cried out and shivered, stunned by the impact of this man's dick, which bottomed out deep inside her, and rubbed against her pussy, which was not yet ready for him. At the same time, his chest crashed down on her's, making it hard for her to breath smoothly, and his chin bumped against her cheek. All of his force was concentrated into an instant, like a boxer, who concentrates the full weight of his body into every punch.

       But after several seconds, Linda's pussy started flowing, and adjusting to his size. In her growing excitement, that pain started feeling good. Really good.

       She could hear his excitement growing. She could feel it, too, as he started fucking even faster and harder.

       She tried to meet his thrusts with her own. Now, she couldn't get enough of him fast enough. The aching in her pussy now expanded to her belly, as though a pressure was growing within her, like the warning tremors before an earthquake.

       She threw her head back. She might have said some thing or even cried out, but she wasn't aware of it. Her whole body convulsed and twisted, and tears squeezed from her eyes, as she came hard, more intensely than ever before.

       The wonderful assault on her body continued for a few more seconds, almost making her come again, when Sam slowed and pushed in as deep as he could, moaning something, and then unloading his passion.

       Linda felt so very, gloriously weak, now, immobilized by the aftershocks. She felt totally at peace, totally in love. She wanted to kiss him and hold him. She felt so close to him after what they just shared.

       But he just rolled off and lay beside her.

       He must have been exhausted, she thought, after all he had done most of the work.

       "Damn!" he finally said, "you are so fucking **_hot!_** "

       She reached out and held his hand. He didn't object to that, and she was happy.

       But it lasted for less than a minute. Then, Sam sat up and started getting dressed.

       "Sorry, babe, but I forgot something. I have to go."

       Linda looked confused.

       He continued getting dressed and didn't look at her, "I'll be back in an hour or two, ready to fuck your sweet pussy again."

       Linda sat up, saying, "But ...", then trailing off into nothing. That's what she suddenly felt like: nothing.

       Then suddenly she saw his eyes change, just for a second. He almost looked kind.

       "Hey, babe, I'm really sorry, I really have to go. Make yourself at home. Do me a favor? I've got a full fridge. Make something for when I get back. You know, nothing too fancy. Maybe some spaghetti or hamburgers."

       Linda nodded, though she had never used a stove before in her life.

       She heard him pouring something in the other room before he left. "Hey cat, come an' get it! ," he yelled, and a small patched cat appeared from under the bed and ran into the other room.

       Then Sam was gone.

       She was all alone. Except for the nameless cat.

       She slipped into her panties and walked into the other room. The cat looked up from his food and they just stared at each other.

       Then Linda whispered to him, "Sorry little fellow, I'm the new pet of the month."

 

* * *

 

       "Mary!" Linda cried, and she hurriedly removed a pair of chains from the door and let her best friend inside. "I'm so glad to see you!"

       Mary stepped inside, and she glanced around at Sam's immaculately clean apartment, decorated in Linda's own, unusual style. The skin on Mary's face was tight, and her eyes bloodshot from hours of worry. "Well you'd never know by the way you've been hiding out in here. Are you okay?"

       Linda nodded. She had a strong impulse to just grab Mary and hold on to her tight, but she didn't, because Mary felt uncomfortable about being touched.

       "Thank God!" Mary smiled and sighed in relief. "I've been looking all over for you. I thought that maybe . . . oh, I'm just glad you're all right. I just wish you called. Did ya forget your own phone number?"

       They just looked at each other for an awkward silent moment, with a hundred words and a hug or two just dying to break through the silence, but they held back.

       "So . . ." Mary said, breaking eye contact. "Why all the locks on the door? The neighborhood's not all that bad. Hell, my neighborhood back home is worse than this. Are you trying to keep Sam out?"

       Linda laughed almost desperately.

       "Hey, no joke. The guy is scum."

       "Please . . ." Linda said, and looked away.

       "A few of my friends say that Sam's a pusher."

       Linda looked confused.

       "Yeah, you know, pushes drugs."

       Linda shook her head to deny it, but really she had no idea.

       "Do you love him?" Mary asked.

       Linda wanted to say yes, but she couldn't. She felt something like love, but she knew it wasn't the real thing.

       "If you don't love the creep, then why are you throwing your life away for him, girl? You've missed a week of classes at school. If you miss much more, you'll never make it up."

       Then Mary startled Linda when she put a hand on Linda's shoulder. "And you don't look so good, neither. I've never seen you look so unhappy and sick, like he's sucking the life right out of you."

       Linda couldn't meet Mary's eyes. She didn't want to have this conversation.

       "Oh! You haven't seen Sam's cat," Linda said, suddenly, too desperate to change the subject to even try at subtlety. She rushed into the other room and scooped the cat up. He was still half asleep when she returned. "Isn't he really cute?"

       "The guy uses people," Mary said, with eyes hard and penetrating, almost mesmerizing to Linda, forcing Linda to look away. "He's living off of your dependency. He's playing you like a game."

       "Pet him, Mary," Linda said while very gently, very affectionately touching -- "him". Suddenly, she realized that "he" didn't have a name. She wasn't even sure "he" was a male.

       Mary sighed, and decided to try something else. "OK, Linda," she said while reaching out to touch the cat, but she retreated when he hissed at her. "Can we sit down while we talk?"

       Linda nodded and led Mary into the living area, where they sat down side by side on the sofa.

       "So what's he like?"

       "He doesn't usually hiss like that, I --"

       "Dammit, Linda, I'm talking about Sam."

       "Oh," Linda said, and then shut up again.

       "What's he like in bed," Mary said with an edge of teasing.

       Linda smiled, feeling a little more comfortable. "Oh, he's ... wild. He says I make him crazy. He thinks I'm pretty."

       Mary nodded. "That just proves he's not blind, Linda. How does he make you feel? Do you like it wild?"

       "Oh, yeah, it almost hurts, but, you know, it feels so good," Linda said, while still petting the cat.

       "Then why do you look so fucking unhappy?" Mary said, shocking Linda. "What do you do afterwards? Do you sleep in each other's arms?"

       Linda shook her head.

       "Does he ever make you feel special? Does he ever do anything for you? Or does he make you do everything for him? Hell, Linda, does he have you doing his laundry, cooking his food, cleaning up after him?"

       Linda couldn't speak. She pet the cat desperately, cooing him, cooing herself, but she couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

 

* * *

 

       Mary was right, Linda finally admitted. Mary had stayed for almost an hour convincing her, consoling her, and encouraging her to leave Sam right away and come home with her. But Linda couldn't do that. She couldn't just walk out on Sam without at least saying goodbye. Mary said that saying goodbye wasn't a good idea. Call him, she said, Say goodbye from home. Linda couldn't do that. Then let me stay with you, Mary insisted, until he gets home. Linda couldn't do that either. She still loved Sam, and she couldn't treat him bad. But she knew Mary was right. She had to leave him. Loving him was killing her. He was as bad for her as Kryptonite.

       So she waited there in the living room, stroking the cat, comforting him, saying that everything was OK, the way that she wished someone would comfort her right now.

       How would she tell him? She didn't have a clue, and that was bad. This was so hard to do, but it was almost impossible without a plan. She would tell him right away. No, she would tell him after having sex. He was much less irritable then. That was it. It was decided. Tonight, in bed.

       "Tonight," She whispered to the cat. He was her witness. "Tonight."

 

* * *

 

       "Heeey baby!" Sam yelled out, full of cheer, when he walked through the door that night. His right hand was tucked behind his back. Linda tried to see what he was hiding, but her vision wasn't what it used to be. She may even need glasses, the way things were.

       "You look really happy," Linda said, almost as a question. Sam only smiled a few times since Linda had known him, and it was usually a wicked sort of smile. But this smile was genuinely happy.

       And he expressed his pleasure in a most wonderful way when he produced a single red rose from behind his back and held it out for Linda to take. He didn't warn her about the thorns, and the flower looked like it had been twisted off from a plant in somebody's garden. It wasn't even a very pretty rose, having signs of decay on the outer petals. But Linda didn't care about that. All her sadness, all her desperation, and all her fears seemed to wash away when she held the flower in her hands. This was a sign that he loved her. It wasn't much, but it was something. For almost a week she had been begging for a sign of his love, or even just a hint of affection, and now she had it. He just didn't know how to express it very well most of the time, and maybe he hurt her at times, but if he could do something this nice, she could forgive him. She _had_ to forgive him. She couldn't help it.

       "Oh, it's beautiful!" Linda cried, and she tried to kiss him.

       But he moved away, as if kissing her would spoil his good mood. "Guess what happened today! That sonofabitch who killed some of my buddies -- you know, the guy who almost shredded your throat in the cafe. Well, the cops fuckin' put him away, and they threw away the key!"

       Linda tried to share in Sam's excitement. "Oh, that's great! No one was safe with someone like him around."

       Sam looked at her kind of funny, as if she didn't have a clue about anything. "Yeah, well, I'm so fuckin' happy that I feel like celebrating."

       Linda smiled.

       Sam looked in the kitchen. "Hey, you didn't cook any dinner."

       Linda's smile dropped like a rock. She had forgotten about dinner, while she had planned her departure tonight, but she couldn't tell Sam that. Not now.

       Sam was in such a good mood he wouldn't let that little detail spoil it. "Hmm, that's OK, I wasn't thinking of eating in anyway. How does my little pet feel about a little dinner and dance?"

       Linda's face lit up like a bulb. She was so happy she couldn't contain herself. Her whole body shivered, as she wanted to just reach out and hold Sam tight.

       Her emotions burned so brightly that they even warmed Sam's heart, while hardening another part of his body.

       "You are so fucking gorgeous, you know that?" Sam said. "You're as hot as any of those babes in the magazines."

       It wasn't exactly what Linda had hoped to hear, but it felt really good all the same, knowing that maybe it was the biggest compliment that Sam knew how to give her. "Thanks," she said, as she averted her eyes shyly.

       "You know. . ." Sam started as he reached into his bureau. "We've got more than an hour to waste before we can go out tonight," he said, returning with a camera in his hands. "How would you like to be a centerfold for a night?"

       She surprised herself by nodding quickly. Was that really what she wanted to do, or would she do just about anything to please him?

       No, she suddenly realized, it _was_ what she wanted to do. She wanted to be smothered by his attention. She wanted to lose herself in his fantasy. She wanted to see the desire in his eyes. She wanted to feel sexy.

       And that's how she felt right now, as she sat on the bed, quickly down to just panties and a bra. Sexy.

       Sam wasted only 3 exposures of 36 so far. He took one picture when she removed her blouse. One picture for her skirt. And one for her pantyhose. He was saving the rest for the good stuff.

       "OK," Sam said, like a director on a movie set, "Keep strokin' your cunt, but with your other hand squeeze your tit through the bra. Keep looking at the camera. Yeah, that's it. Mmm. Now, squeeze it a little lower. No,no. Squeeze it so the tit comes out, and I can see your nipple. Yeah, _yeah_ , that's fuckin' hot!"

       Linda felt a little embarrassed at first, but then she was just feeling really hot and excited. She wanted to take her soaking panties off so bad, and touch her pussy directly. But she knew Sam was as eager as she, and he would get around to it soon enough -- as soon as she was so hot she couldn't take it anymore!

       For the moment, he just wanted to take those pictures and tease her along. The flash blinded her, when Sam captured the unveiling of another nipple on film.

       "OK," he said, "Off with the bra completely."

       Linda struggled with it for a second, and Sam impatiently grabbed it and tore it off of her body in a tremendous yank, the impact scratching her back and arms, and shaking her body, making her feel totally awake and totally excited.

       Sam was losing patience now. At first, he truly seemed to be trying to take good pictures, but now any artistic desires he might have had gave way to simpler desires. "Let me see you naked now."

       Linda eased out of the panties, and lay back down on the bed, her face flushed red, her whole body tingling, and her glistening pussy shining up at Sam's face.

       Sam tossed the camera onto the floor and kneeled between her legs at the end of the bed. He grabbed Linda's ass with both hands and plunged his tongue into her. Linda gasped in surprise. Sam licked all around, and when Linda started to moan, he finger-fucked her while he sucked on her clit.

       Linda cried out in total joy. Sam had never seemed to care about how she felt before, but now he was doing this just for her, out of his love for her. "Oh, Sam . . . oh" Her fingers buried in his hair. Her feet resting on his shoulders. While his expert hands and tongue worked on her pussy. Then, unexpectedly, one of his fingers slipped into her asshole, fucking her there, too. Her whole body was on fire, tingling, electric. She was lost, all of her fears washed away, and her love growing stronger, stronger, no longer pining away . . .

       " **FUCKING BITCH!** " Sam yelled as he struggled to break free.

       In the next moment, Linda's whole body came crashing down from the bed onto the floor. She didn't feel any pain. She didn't even notice that she was off the bed. She only noticed the anger in Sam's voice.

       "What's wrong, Sam?" She asked in daze.

       Sam sneered at her. "You bitch! Why the fuck were you squeezing my head so hard?"

       Linda shook her head. "Oh, Sam, I didn't mean to."

       "Come here, cunt. I'll teach you to get rough with me!" Sam grabbed Linda's hair and lifted her head up to his dick. Linda didn't fight him. She took him into her mouth. He twisted her hair in his fingers so it hurt. "Have a taste of your own medicine," he said.

       Linda felt torn inside out, first feeling wonderful, and now feeling terribly guilty and weak. Sam had been making love to her, making her feel like she was in heaven! And she paid him back by hurting him with a sudden burst of strength. All she wanted to do now was make up for it. She wanted to make Sam feel as good as he had made her feel just a minute ago. She wanted to make him forget what she had just done to him. She wanted to make this the best blow job he'd ever had. She sucked on his dick with care, licking his full length, and circling his dick with her tongue, caressing him with her mouth.

       But Sam wasn't feeling slow and gentle at the moment. He grabbed Linda's head firmly and started pumping hard, further than Linda could handle. He fucked her mouth violently, slamming into the back of her throat. She would certainly have vomited if she had any food in her stomach. Finally he came, and when the saltiness filled her mouth, Linda just wanted to spit it out.

       "No, bitch, suck it all up. Swallow it. Lick it clean."

       And Linda did. Somehow.

       Sam let go of her hair, and she fell back flat on the floor, and she couldn't help it, she started crying. How could he treat her like this?

       "Yeah, go ahead, cry. That will teach you to play rough with me." Sam said, as he zipped up his pants. "And forget about that dinner and dance. I'm not in the mood anymore."

       Sam disappeared out of the house.

 

* * *

 

       "What is this, Grand Center Station?"

       "Central," Clark said as he walked into Sam's apartment. "Grand Central Station."

       "Give me a break," Linda said bitterly as she led Clark into the living room area. "I've only been on this world for a year. Have a seat."

       Clark eyed Linda carefully. "I would ask you how you're doing, but it's quite obvious."

       Linda looked away, ashamed to meet his gaze. "Hey, I asked you to give me a break . . ."

       Clark shook his head. "Not a chance. You've got to give _yourself_ a break. Dump this guy."

       "How did you know about Sam?"

       "Mary called me at the Planet," Clark said solemnly, taking hold of Linda's hand. "She's very concerned. At first I wasn't too worried. I mean, what kind of serious trouble could a super-girl get into? But then she told me that someone cut you . . . so I came down here right away. Is it true? Have you lost your powers?"

       Linda nodded. "Sometimes I feel a quick burst of strength. Sometimes I can see through paper and clothes."

       "Wow!" Clark was amazed.

       "But I'm afraid I've lost them forever," Linda said, sounding sadder than she realized.

       "Oh, no, no, you'll get them back," Clark said without hesitation. "I've gone though similar spells myself, but I've never lost my powers completely or for more than a minute or two."

       "You've never told me that!" Linda said with a sudden touch of anger in her voice. "I could have used some warning. I almost got killed because I didn't know about it."

       Clark looked a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Kara, but it's . . . it's just not the kind of thing I like to talk about. Besides, I didn't think it would affect you."

       Linda eyed him curiously. "Because?"

       "Because, well, you're a girl. A woman. I thought it was something that affected only us superguys. Besides, I didn't think the reaction could be so extreme."

       "So . . . it's a sexual reaction?" Linda pushed.

       Clark nodded. "Partly, though it not predictable. Sometimes sex can even make me feel stronger -- as if I really needed any more sexual energy in bed!"

       Linda smiled at this.

       "But sometimes . . . an attractive woman can send me into a daze. I remember this one time when I was doing some charity work. I was carrying people around Metropolis, $200 per trip, and all the money went towards some charity or other. Many of the people were women. Many were attractive. Some even seemed infatuated with me. But one woman was different.

       "She was dressed all up in country garb, like the women in Smallville. But she looked really good in it. I mean she looked hot, even in plain clothes.

       "About halfway through the trip she started to move around in my arms. You know how I hold people when I carry them in my arms, right? Well, she tried to make the most of it by rubbing her ass against my shorts. Then her shirt came completely open. She made it look like an accident, as though a button snapped, but it was no accident. When I pretended not to notice, she grabbed my head and gave me one hell of a nice kiss. She even reached down with her hand to feel if I had a hard-on."

       "Well," Linda said naughtily. "Did you?"

       "Nope. That's the funny thing about it. I thought I'd be as hard as a rock. Harder, even, considering how she turned me on. But nothing. And she was pretty disappointed, too, no doubt thinking that I was unfazed. Little did she know how close she came to killing herself. Maybe me, too. I was so stunned by . . . her, that I had lost control and we were plummeting towards the earth. I don't think she knew what was happening. She probably just thought the ride was over and I was coming in for an exciting landing. But somehow I composed myself in time.

       "I called the rest of the charity event off, under the pretense that some emergency was taking place, and I had to be there, but really I was just shaken up by what happened - - by what almost happened."

       Linda nodded. "That must have been pretty scary, having you power's stripped away like that."

       Clark put one arm around Linda's shoulders. "You should know. It was pretty scary, but not as scary as what you're going through. You have to leave him."

       Linda squirmed in his half embrace. "It's not that easy," she said evasively. She didn't want to talk about it. "I mean, what's so bad about being a normal girl? What's so bad about being like everyone else."

       Clark nodded. "True, I've had the same fantasy. Not having to worry about saving the world, not hearing people's cries for help when I'm home reading a book, and not having to lie all the time about my powers. But there are good things about having powers, too. Sometimes it feels wonderful."

       "I've never thought so," Linda said, looking sad, like a little girl who didn't fit in at school.

       Clark smiled. "Never? Sometimes I think the only times I've seen you truly happy was when you were flying around, saving people, showing off."

       "I never showed off," Linda smiled shyly, wondering if Clark really knew what he was talking about.

       "Bullshit. I've seen the way you've teased some of the attractive men you've saved, even though it really wasn't an appropriate time to do it."

       "Oh, you liar! I never do that!" Linda looked genuinely stunned.

       "Bullshit again. You even flirted with that reporter from channel five, who just wanted to interview you."

       "That's just your opinion. You just think whenever a girl is being friendly she's flirting."

       "No, I don't. Friendly is friendly. I just get suspicious when a girl wears skin tight costumes that show her nipples clearly through the fabric."

       Linda shrugged. "You can only see the nipples when . . . they are hard."

       "Which is most of the time," Clark finished, "probably because you get so excited by teasing all the boys who just stand around, mouth agape, looking at you like you were a goddess, when you swoop down and stop a crime."

       "Oh, stop it!"

       "But don't worry, I'm sure their dicks are as hard as your nipples. They can't help it, because they are wondering if you are wearing anything under that extremely small miniskirt you wear -- because they never seem to see any white."

       Now Linda looked really embarrassed. "You know?"

       "Oh, you do a great job of hiding it, by crossing your legs slightly when you fly, and being careful whenever the wind blows. Every once in a while you let people have a glimpse, but never long enough for people to be sure what they saw. Maybe you don't even know, but guys are always talking about it, speculating. They even have a news group on the internet called alt.sex.supergirl.skirtflirt, which is dedicated to revealing the truth, preferably with a photo as proof."

       Linda's face was completely crimson. She was caught. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

       Clark shrugged. "Oh, don't be sorry. It's not like you are running around naked or anything like that, and

seem to get a real kick out of making people guess. But what I don't understand is: why did you think

you could fool me?"

       Linda teased him right back, "Maybe I just thought you'd never look."

       Clark straightened his collar. "Why wouldn't I look? Sometimes it's hard not to notice things when you've got x- ray vision."

       "It's hard, all right," Linda said with admiration as she looked at Clark's lap.

       Clark sat up straight. "Hey, I thought you lost your powers."

       Linda nodded. "I told you my vision comes and goes, depending how I feel."

       "So how do you feel?"

       Linda sighed and thought about it. "I feel OK right now. You've really cheered me up. Thanks."

       "You're welcome. But you know what will really cheer you up, don't you? Dump this asshole, you'll feel much happier, and your powers will come back."

       Linda shook her head, and all the cheer left her eyes.

       "Why not?" Clark said quietly.

       She shrugged. "I think I love him."

       "I don't think it's love," Clark said, uncomfortable. He didn't like that she used the L-word.

       Outside, someone was unlocking the apartment's door.

       "And if it is love, it's a love you can do without."

 

* * *

 

       "Hello, Sam," Clark said politely.

       "Who the fuck are you?" Sam replied, knowing instantly that Clark was an enemy. He had a six sixth sense about enemies, like animals can sense natural disasters, and like dogs can sense fear. Maybe that sixth sense even told him that he'd better not mess with Clark, because Sam kept a safe distance.

       Clark glared at him. He had been willing to be give Sam the benefit of the doubt, a chance to prove himself, but that chance was already gone, and Sam failed miserably. Clark stood up, and Linda thought Clark had already lost it. He was gonna punch Sam's face right through the wall.

       But Linda quickly stood between them. She gently held Clark back with a hand to his chest, and said to Sam, "This is Clark, a friend of mine."

       "Yeah," Sam said to Clark, cautiously angry, "well, Linda's _my_ friend now, so go find another friend."

       Clark couldn't believe what a prick this guy was. What the hell did Linda see in him? Clark wanted to teach him a lesson. He also wanted to kill him. The only problem was that he couldn't do both at the same time.

       Before he could act, Linda urged him aside, into the kitchen. She kept a hand on his chest all the while, as if to restrain him. She felt his muscles twitching under the shirt. She was amazed that she could hold back the power of a hurricane with such a gentle touch.

       "Please, Clark," She whispered. "Don't hurt him."

       Clark shook his head. "I can't just stand here and watch him keep on hurting you."

       Linda nodded. "I know, I'm sorry . . . I'll leave him"

       Clark relaxed slightly, but he was still skeptical. "When?"

       "Soon," Linda replied.

       "Not good enough. You told Mary you'd leave him, too, but you didn't."

       "It's not easy, Clark. Maybe I think I can change him. Maybe I can teach him how to love."

       "Maybe you don't want him to change, Linda," Clark replied. "Maybe you like the way he loves."

       Linda shook her head, partly to deny Clark's charges, mostly to shake the thought right out of her head, in case it was true. "No, I don't like it, Clark! But I can't just leave him. I can't hurt him that way. I have to feel right about this."

       "Ok, Linda. I'm sorry. It's just that it hurts me to see you being hurt, and I keep thinking how easily you could stop the pain." Clark paused, feeling helpless and frustrated. He seemed about to say something else, but he didn't.

       Instead, he hugged her, hoping his embrace would give her back a little of the strength she had lost.

       After saying goodbye, Linda led Clark to the door.

       Clark hoped that Sam would be just outside the kitchen, so Clark could worry him before he left with a subtle threat, but Sam had retired to the living area and was watching the TV, so Clark left without a word.

       Sam was not really interested in the TV show he was watching, even though it was sweeps time, and the episode was advertised as "the TV event of the year!" No, Sam was just waiting for Clark to leave.

       Was he afraid of confrontation? Linda wondered. Nah, he was just being practical. Whether Sam won or lost a fight with Clark, he might end up in jail.

       So he picked a fight with Linda, instead.

       "Who the fuck is `Clark'?" Sam yelled, suddenly only inches from Linda's face.

       Linda realized that Clark might have heard the outburst even without his super hearing. But he didn't come running back. Linda had to fight her own fight, now.

       "He's . . . a friend. He helped me get settled when I first came to America." Linda replied, struggling with the lie that was her secret identity.

       Sam didn't like the sound of that at all. Clark was more than just a friend. And Sam knew there was a secret. He could sense it just in the way Linda averted her eyes and struggled with her story. Maybe they were even former lovers, he thought. He got that feeling from the way they looked at each other.

       Sam had heard part of their conversation in the kitchen, and he knew that Clark was getting to her. "Don't ever let him in here again."

       Linda was suddenly upset, and she demanded with eyes wide open. "Why not? He's the best friend I ever had!"

       Sam hated that look of defiance in Linda's eyes. It shot through him like electricity, making his hair stand on end and his muscles quicken. The smartest thing to do right now is to play it cool, a voice told him. Calculate. Tell her that you just can't stand the thought of her with another man. Give her something to cling to.

       Perhaps if he had more time to collect himself. . .

       He had had time to control his temper after he found out about Mary's visit several days ago, so he came home bearing gifts, winning Linda back. He knew how to be kind, when he needed to be.

       But he didn't know how to tolerate that spark of defiance in her eyes. So he hit her. With a closed fist. Hard in the face.

       Linda fell down, landing flat on her ass. Her eyes were glazed over, and she covered her hurting cheek with one hand. She wasn't crying, and she wasn't afraid. She was in shock.

       Sam knew immediately that he had gone too far. He had hurt her before, but not like this. He had made her feel undesirable, and he had made her feel like she deserved whatever she got. But this time, he had made her feel abused.

       "Oh, damn, Linda, I'm sorry," Sam said, looking like he was telling the truth. He tried to help her up. "I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

       Linda accepted his help off the floor, but she shook her head at his apology. "You hit me," she said, gazing at the ground.

       "Yeah, but you forced me into it." Sam replied, instantly looking for a way to turn this around, somehow -- trying to make her feel that she deserved to be hit.

       Linda finally met his eyes. "I forced you to hit me? How did I do that?"

       Sam felt helpless, like a cornered animal, so he lashed out, "You're always plotting behind my back. First that shit with that black bitch from school and then with this `friend' Clark, who you've probably been fucking in the afternoon when I'm off at work. You're so busy fucking that the apartment's filthy as shit, and dinner . . . dinner always tastes _worse_ than shit."

       Linda took a step back, reeling from the venom in his words, but the venom only stung -- it didn't weaken her. If anything, it made her a little angry. "Don't say things like that about Mary, and Clark is a better man than you'll ever be."

       Sam grabbed Linda by the throat and pressed her against the wall. He wasn't sure what he intended to do, but he was angry enough to do just about anything.

       For a moment, Linda thought Sam was gonna choke her to death, as his thumbs pressed in hard, and she could barely breath. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong. She felt her face start to tingle, her vision fade, and her legs failing beneath her. Her eyes glowed with the horror of knowing what was about to happen.

       But it didn't happen. Something was taking her over, taking control, weakening the pain, strengthening her muscles, deadening the immense sadness and fear in her heart. Maybe it was her survival instinct

       For a moment, it was just barely enough to keep her alive. Her throat muscles were like steel cords in Sam's hands, keeping her wind pipe open, but still she was only barely conscious.

       Until her lungs filled with fresh oxygen, and her mind started thinking clearly again. It had been a long time . . .

       Sam was amazed by the transformation. Her eyes changed from terror to serene judgment. He squeezed harder, trying to regain control, but he had lost it. Amazement turned to shock, when Linda grabbed his hands in hers, like two vice- grips, and pushed him away.

       Then they just stood there, three feet apart, staring at each other, trying to understand what had just happened and what it all meant.

       Linda walked away, into the bathroom and locked the door. She wanted to ponder over things, make sense of it all.

       She looked in the mirror.

       She had a nasty bruise on her cheek, and her neck showed two blue spots. She looked like a stranger.

       This is what love has done to me, she thought.

       And that made her so angry, she punched the mirror, sending glass shards throughout the bathroom and the kitchen, which was on the other side. The whole apartment complex shook, and several car alarms outside were set off.

       She burst out of the bathroom, not bothering to even open the door.

       Sam, who was trying to unlock the bathroom door, was thrown to the floor from the concussion. He looked up at her like a frightened cat, wondering what she was gonna do.

       Frightened cat, Linda thought, smiling slightly. She walked right past Sam, not letting herself see him, and she found the cat hiding in his favorite corner of the living room.

       "Here, kitty," She whispered. "Here . . . Calvin," she suddenly decided on a name. He deserved a name.

       When she walked back across the building, cooing Calvin. Sam was still laying on the floor, afraid to get up. Part of her hated to see him this way: weak, powerless, afraid. But a new part of her relished it. She stood over him. "I'm taking Calvin with me. You don't deserve him."

       "Who?" Sam replied, barely able to even consider anything besides his own fate, which seemed uncertain at the moment.

       "And don't even think of telling anyone about me," Linda said with a voice far more threatening than she was able to summon in her drama class at college. "Or . . . or else I can't even describe what will happen to you!"

       Then Linda forgot about Sam. She shut his memory out of her mind and started walking home.

       Part of her was shaking inside, afraid of the memories. She was afraid of the future, too, because she never really felt comfortable with herself or with her life. But there was nothing like a taste of hell to put it all in perspective.

       Calvin meowed in sympathy.

   "It's OK, Calvin. Everything's gonna be okay. I'm gonna take you to a new home, where everyone will love you," She said, smiling and rubbing his neck. "Everyone except maybe the University Housing Department, but fuck `em."


	4. Supergirl and the American Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Supergirl finds that truth and justice are not always the American way.  
>   
>   
> 

       The police had the place surrounded. Inside the building were thirty plus Cuban refugees. They were mostly men, but some of them were families. That meant little to the police, because the Cubans were not supposed to be here in America, and they were armed.

       A mother in the house sent a letter to the Daily Planet last week to be printed in the editorial section, penned in Spanish. The letter said:

 

 

> "To the people of the United States:
> 
>        "We came here because we have no place else to go. We will do any job for any pay, because we did not come here for your jobs or for money. We came here because Castro wants us dead. We found a house that no one was using, and so we moved in. We stole some food because some of us were starving, but we won't steal anything else.
> 
>        "The police told us that we had to give up our guns, and then they would discuss whether we had to return to Cuba or not, but we know that most of us would have to leave. So we won't give up our guns, and we have to defend our home.
> 
> "Antonia Rodrigo"

 

       The letter was never printed, but I saw it when I visited the Daily Planet last week. Jimmy Olsen told me "the Planet never prints letters unless they are written in English," but his eyes betrayed the ugly truth.

       For the next few days, I kept a super-eye on that house. I didn't know if I was being overly suspicious. I wanted to feel foolish for not trusting the police. But I knew that popular opinion was against the Cubans. When a few days had past, and the police hadn't come, I began to relax and think again of America with optimism. Someone in charge must have had an attack of conscience, I reassured myself. America was welcoming the Cubans into its bosom, and the name "America" secured its place in my heart.

       What were those words on the Statue of Liberty? Give me your poor, hungry and wretched ... something like that. America had adopted me when I was poor, wretched and all that, and I was truly grateful. I was happy to fight for "truth, justice and the American way," and for the red, white and blue.

       But today, those grand words seemed empty, and the only colors I could see were shades of grey. Today, the police surrounded the Cubans' home, and the Daily Planet printed an editorial about a wave of Cuban terrorists invading American shores. My heart sank. The American people didn't have x- ray vision, so they couldn't see the suffering in that home. They didn't have super ears, so they couldn't hear the fear in the children's voices. The media were supposed to be the eyes and ears of America, but strangely no one seemed interested in the Cubans' story. Even Clark had described America's immigration policy as a "necessary evil." Now, as ready fingers leaned against triggers, and as tear-gas launchers were prepared for the first stage in this small war, I had to choose between "truth and justice" or the "American way."

       "It's all right, Supergirl," said the female police officer in charge as I swooped down beside her. Her voice sparkled with excitement. Apparently this was her first command of a serious police operation, and she was anxious to prove herself in action. Maybe she thought I was here to rain on her parade. When I looked at her, I almost felt like I was looking into a mirror; like me, she was nervous; like me, she was preparing to be baptized with responsibility. "We have matters well in hand," she said, and then she looked away, perhaps hoping I would leave.

       "You mean you'd rather kill them than let me resolve this without guns?" I asked. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. I felt dizzy, and my heart raced.

       The officer looked amazed. "No, of course not. We're going to fill the house with tear gas and force them out.

       "Let me go in," I said, "and try to talk with them. Maybe we can fix this peacefully."

       The officer shook her head, "The time for discussion has ended. Now is the time for a show of force. We need to show the world that we take our borders seriously."

       "Why don't you just tear down the Statue of Liberty, then?" I said, as I set my posture. My will was hardening. "These people came here in desperation, and you are just going to turn them away?"

       Her eyes opened wide. "What are your intentions, Supergirl."

       "I am here," I said slowly, thinking out the words before I spoke them, "to ensure the safety of the refugees."

       Several officers were now gathering around me. One of them said, "Do you mean that you are on _their_ side?"

       "Yes," I said. "They only want to survive. And I can't allow you to hurt them."

       "This really isn't your decision to make, Supergirl. America has decided, and we are only doing what America wants."

       I didn't know what else to say. According to the media, America did seem to want the Cubans removed, but I knew the media wasn't telling America everything. Even if a fully informed America supported the police action, I couldn't ignore my own conscience.

       I walked to a spot directly between the police and the Cubans' house, and I raised my right hand in a "stop" gesture towards the police officers.

       Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain. I didn't expect anyone to shoot at me, so when the bullet bounced off one of my teeth, I stumbled backwards and covered my mouth with my hand. Most people know that bullets cannot injure me, but they don't know that Superman and I are very sensitive to pain -- that's the price of our super-senses. We try to hide this weakness, and we usually brace ourselves when we expect to be shot. But this time I was surprised, and the pain that exploded from my tooth was excruciating.

       "Superdyke!" yelled a young officer with the smoking pistol. "Why don't you go back to Krypton?"

       I composed myself, and I sneered at him. I was almost thankful to the bastard for making my decision easier. Now the anguish in my heart was eased, and I felt assured that what I was doing was right.

       Before they knew what had happened, I disarmed all thirty officers. As they searched for their weapons, I transformed into Linda Lee and just walked away as a pedestrian.

       Reporters flooded the area, and a crowd was gathering around the confused law enforcement officials. I looked at my reflection in a store window and straitened my brown wig. I smiled mischievously, as I looked over my shoulder in the window and saw the confused police officers.

       A hopeful young man offered to carry my large bag of "groceries". I smiled at him and shook my head. I couldn't let him see what I really had inside the bag -- besides, I already had a date for the evening.

 ***

       Hidden beneath a canopy of treetops and beyond an assortment of bushes was a four room, brick house. It sat in a quiet neighborhood about a mile from the crowded campus of Metropolis University. Linda thought it was the perfect place for a woman who protected many secrets.

       Or for two such women.

       Carol Lee and Linda Lee had little in common besides the same last name. Carol had small breasts and skinny legs; but she had unblemished white skin, the perfect face of a doll, and shiny black hair.

       She greeted Linda at the door, and glanced in the bag. She licked her lips when she saw the guns. "Looks yummy," she said with a smile. Her smile shone like a diamond in the black satin of her hair.

       "I had a problem with the police," Linda said, while placing the bag on the kitchen table.

       Carol smiled even brighter. "I mean you. You look yummy," she whispered into Linda's ear, as she slid the wig from Linda's head. Linda smiled, as Carol's touch exorcised her worries about the police and an irate America.

       Linda closed her eyes, as Carol ran her fingers through Linda's blonde hair.

       "I've been hungry all day," Carol whispered in Linda's ear, "and I think its time to eat."

*******

       My life has changed since I met Carol a few months ago. I had never really thought about sex with another woman before, but heterosexual relationships had too many problems for me.

       Men thought I was frigid because I wouldn't go all the way with them; they didn't know that my restraint was for their protection. Then, if I took the chance and trusted them with my secret, they couldn't handle it, and the relationship disintegrated. One of the men even became violent with me, strangely thinking it was a man's duty to subdue his woman. He was much more gentle after breaking his fist on my jaw, but he also lost all interest in me.

       And then there was Sam . . . but that's a whole story in itself.

       I was Linda Lee when I had met all my male lovers. Most of them felt betrayed when I revealed that I was Supergirl. They couldn't see that the gentle and vulnerable Linda Lee was real, or that I truly cared for them. They couldn't see me as anything other than a woman whose mere existence undermined the traditional concepts of men. I was grateful to them for promising to keep my secret. But I was devastated, as anyone in love would be.

       My love affair with Carol was different. Not only was she a woman, but she was attracted to the real me.

       Actually, she was interested in Superman at first. Even now, she sometimes joked that I was really her second choice. Occasionally, when we made love, she would yell out "Oh! Oh, Superman!"

       She had always been fascinated by the subject of Krypton, and she had tried for years to meet with the Man of Steel. After graduating Metropolis University two years ago, she had become a reporter for the Daily Planet. The Planet had had a reputation for always getting the scoop on Superman. For some reason, Clark had felt his identity was compromised, so he had made sure that the only hero Carol would ever meet was me.

       So I saw Carol time and again, as I stopped a gunfight, prevented an accident, or just made a statement to the press. She quickly became my favorite reporter -- someone who never asked a barbed question, and who was just a familiar, friendly face among her aggressive colleagues.

       The rest of the story is kinda boring. Over the past six months, we've grown closer, and eventually we found that we loved each other. So we became lovers, and Carol Lee moved in with me. We told everyone that we were sisters, which was easy to pull off since we both had the name Lee. (By the way, this wasn't a coincidence: Clark actually was thinking of Carol when he gave me my Earth name.)

       Carol was a little crazy. She had a fascination with power. She thought the combination of power and weakness was very sexy, and she loved to play games in which the participants played both roles. We never had ordinary sex. We always played a game, and Carol always invented the game. Her favorite sex games involved themes of S&M and rape, but strangely mixed with tenderness. She had a wild and almost frightening imagination, but somehow sex with her was always intensely satisfying.

       Today, she wanted to play a variation of what she called the Superslave Game. This was a two part game in which first I am tied up, and my master has her way with me -- then she unties me, and I must pay tribute to her body. She would tie my hands and feet to the bed with rags treated with a small amount of Kryptonite. The Kryptonite wasn't painful, but it numbed my skin where it touched me, and after about a minute, the numbing traveled throughout my arms and legs, paralyzing my limbs. After a little more time, the effects reach my mind, and I feel a high-- something like the high people get from pot. Sometimes I wondered how safe this game really was, but we've already played it several times, and the effects wore off as soon as Carol untied me.

       Carol seemed anxious today. She locked the front door, and then she led me to the bedroom.

       "Don't you want to know about my problem with the police, Carol?" I asked, feeling we should talk about it. She was a reporter, after all, and she should be interested.

       Carol shook her head, and said, "Love before business."

       "But..." I started, when she stuffed my wig in my mouth. So I dutifully dropped myself on the bed, and let my master tie me up.

       When we first tried this game, Carol was tentative about the rags, constantly asking me how they felt and whether I was OK. But now she really got into the role, tying the knots tight and staring at me with apparent cruelty. After securing both hands and feet, she left the room to change, while the Kryptonite worked on my body.

       I laid back and tried to relax. I was tense from my encounter with the police, and worried about public opinion of me once the police told their story. Then waves of tingling crawled down my arms and legs, and a sense of peace swept into my brain.

       Carol returned wearing a very naughty black teddy, and holding a black bag that I couldn't see into even with x-ray vision. She had surprises in store for me. She climbed onto the bed, and kneeled between my legs.

       Just then I realized I was fully dressed. For this game, I was supposed to wear clothes that were easy to strip. "I'm sorry, Carol," I said. "Untie me and I'll..."

       The first surprise Carol had in store for me was a gag. She wrapped it tightly around my head. It was just an ordinary piece of cloth, and I could bite it off if I wanted to.

       "I hope these clothes don't mean much to you," Carol whispered in my ear, "'cause they won't won't be worth a nickel when I'm through!"

       She could have unbuttoned the blouse, but instead she tore at it violently, spraying buttons in the air. She struggled with my skirt; apparently the fabric was tougher than she thought, but her determination defeated the skirt in short order. All that remained now between Carol and my flesh was the blue and red uniform.

       "I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I'll make you another one."

       I tried to complain through the gag, but Carol again whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be OK."

       She reached into the black bag and pulled out a razor blade.

       I fell silent.

       She demonstrated the blade playfully, like a child discovering a new toy, and then she lowered the new toy towards my uniform. Very slowly she began to cut my uniform away, between my breasts, with the blade pressing into my skin. The pricking sensation was so acute that I expected to see blood, but my skin wasn't even marked.

       After traveling only a few inches, she paused. Then she moved the blade over my left nipple, and began to cut a hole in the red and yellow "S". I squirmed from the sensation, which was a little painful and a little exciting. When the erect nipple was revealed, Carol tried to excite it further with her tongue. Then, in the midst of pleasuring me, she unexpectedly bit down hard on the tip. I gasped, and my whole body shook. Carol kissed my cheek and consoled me, "Shhh. It's OK." She proceeded to cut another hole around my right nipple, and my body tensed as she began to suck on it. She glanced up to meet my eyes, and she smiled mischievously. I shut my eyes and prepared for her sadistic treat, but she just suckled on the nipple, as her hand massaged my other breast.

       Carol must have sensed me relaxing. I was not allowed to relax. I felt the razor now slicing into my side, tantalizingly slow, to enhance my pain or pleasure. I watched as she butchered the suit beyond repair. Carol kissed each inch of my skin, as she exposed it.

       She began to cut the other side. Eventually, she had cut enough, and she just tossed the remains aside.

       Then she stared at the skirt, concentrating on the hidden and not the revealed. Her lips twisted in apparent anger, as she heaved away at the elastic waistband, and the red cloth tore away easily. Her eyes flashed surprise and delight at the unexpected thin cotton threshold to the prize, heightening her anticipation.

       I opened my eyes wide as she raised the blade again. What was she planning? She hovered the blade between my legs, pretending to consider a slash, or maybe a slow, penetrating incision. I almost sighed when she merely cut the panties away at my hips.

       Finally, with a wave of her hand, and a gape of wonder, the rest of me seemed to disappear. I was my pussy. Carol paused and just stared at it, and so I just stared myself. Maybe it was the drugging affect of the kryptonite, or maybe it was Carol's act of awe, but I was fascinated by my own pussy. The yellow hairs were tipped with red, like the puff of silk on a fresh ear of corn. It was prepared just the way she liked it. With my legs spread, the lips parted slightly, like a mouth readying for a kiss. And I felt the heat building, a movement of blood, like a passionate blush.

       Carol would usually touch it by now, or perhaps taste it. Once she shocked me by biting it. But now she paused and just looked. Then, with a smile, she reached into the black bag.

       And out came an empty mineral-water bottle. Carol had removed the label, and had lubricated the surface to a shiny glean. It was just a glass dildo, now. The outside of the bottle had ridges, as though it was designed for this purpose.

       Carol touched the cold tip to my thighs, which were too numb to respond. But as the tip moved nearer to the center, I began to quiver. She began to kiss my nipples again, as the bottle peeked inside me. She moved up to my face, and removed my gag with her free hand, as the bottle probed a little deeper. I closed my eyes, and we kissed, as Carol rotated the bottle. I felt my muscles compress slightly, and a worry crossed my mind. What if the bottle should break?

       I tried to talk, but Carol's lips were pinned to my own. If the bottle broke, what would I do? It wouldn't cut me, but what an irritation! I tried to speak again, but she just pushed the bottle in deeper. Then I stopped trying. I was at the dawn of an orgasm, and suddenly nothing seemed to matter. I arched my head back, as Carol nibbled on my neck. My whole body shook under her harsh, knowing touch. She did not slow until my body relaxed, and my heart leaped into the sky.

       At the height of my climax, as I was beginning to moan, and rushing towards a second climax, the sound of glass shattering stung my ears. For an instant, I felt certain that the bottle had broken. An awful sensation grew in my abdomen. I opened my eyes to see shards of glass on the bed and even on my body. But the suspected bottle lay innocently between my legs, whole and without a crack. Carol had leapt off me and stared in shock at the broken window beside the bed. I was stunned, but not just from surprise. I felt an immediate pain strike my stomach. In about five seconds, I had gone from ecstasy to the desire to puke!

                                        

*******

                                        

       Andrew had been tense all day, but he was just beginning to relax when his cellular beeped.

       "Damn you," he whispered into it, as he walked down the street, trying to look casual, like a successful business man or something. "This better be good."

       "Sorry Andy," the little box almost seemed to yell back. "But some jokers have just started down the street, and they are bound to attract some attention. We'd better circle round again."

       "Where are they at?" Andy asked, now more concerned than angry.

       "They are nearing the house," Ernie replied.

       "No, no, I mean the subjects."

       "Oh, they are getting near the end, I think. Ted can barely see them, but he thinks our opportunity is beginning to pass. Maybe we should reschedule."

       "No quits," Andrew said with as much authority as he could. "How many days in a row will they keep up this game? No, it's now or never. You don't get that many chances with these people."

       After a pause ... "Ted thinks you should walk faster, then."

       "Damn," Andrew grumbled, as he increased his pace. He whispered again into the phone, "Don't call me back, no matter what." And he dropped it back into his belt.

       He started counting down the houses in his mind. Eight to go.

       He tightened his grip on the heavy little book in his left hand. It looked like a hard-cover novel, but it weighed 35 pounds. Andrew wondered how conspicuous he would seem to someone watching, as he struggled with the heavy book.

       Four houses left.

       He fingered the catch on the "book", just to be sure it would open. Then those guilty little thoughts edged into his mind. What if I'm wrong? they asked. Why am I really doing this? But Andrew never paused or wondered if he would go through with it. He learned to live with those voices a long time ago.

       Paul was walking the other way, all grunged up and wearing an earring. He was holding a book like Andrew's, just in case.

       Ernie wore a MU sweatshirt, and he carried a MU back pack, inside which slept the cellular phone.

       Andrew relaxed a bit. They looked perfect -- just a couple of random guys from the University, strolling the town. And with this feeling of confidence, he turned down the front walk, under the canopy of trees, towards the little house. He knew Paul and Ernie were pausing to chat behind him. Andrew turned the book in his hand, and flipped it open, revealing a baseball sized green stone. With a quick wind-up, he pitched it through the bedroom window.

       Ernie ran up past him with a gun that looked like a small cannon, and he blew away the front door's lock. Paul crashed the door down with his shoulder an instant later.

       In about five seconds, all three were in the bedroom of the Girl of Steel, who lay naked on the bed. Andrew, Ernie and Paul all stopped in their tracks and paused. Andrew took a deep breath, amazed that the plan went without a problem. He gazed almost blankly at the pussy which almost seem to stare back at him.

       "What the hell are you doing here!" Carol screamed.

       Andrew was shaken from his trance, and he glanced at Ernie and Paul, who smiled with evil intent. Andrew thought about it for a moment, and he understood. Not many men could say they were in this position, standing before the most powerful woman in the world, who lay helpless to their whims. But that wasn't why they were here.

       "Paul, take Miss Lee -- uh, Miss Carol Lee into the next room. I don't want these two together." Andrew said, almost yelling to get Jim's attention. He pulled a blanket over Linda's naked body, and then his eyes met hers. She was overwhelmed with pain. Andrew spoke more quietly, "Ernie, snap out of it and call in."

       "Stop it!" Linda cried, clenching her teeth and struggling against the rags that held her tight.

       The kryptonite stone was on the floor, less than a foot from the bed. Andrew slid the stone a little further away with his foot, and saw the pain on Linda's face loosen its hold a bit. He moved it yet a little further: Linda's muscles went limp, as she breathed deeply in relief.

       Ernie whispered to Andrew, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

       Andrew waved his hand in dismissal, as he sat on the corner of the bed and slipped a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He stared at the suddenly vulnerable girl of steel with intense regard. No, Ernie, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. Who knew exactly what affect the magical green stones had on these magical people. Who knew how effectively those rags binding her suppressed her powers. Maybe even crippled she could destroy them with her x-ray eyes. But he didn't feel right torturing her. They weren't here to punish her.

       Linda met Andrew's stare directly, but Andrew could tell that she was overwhelmed.

       Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"

       Andrew lit his cigarette before replying. "Not much, really. We never really wanted much. But you've gotten out of hand."

       Linda smiled slightly, apparently amused by his comment.

       Andrew nudged the stone slightly nearer with his foot, and Linda noticeably tensed. He didn't like that she felt comfortable enough to smile.

       "We've been watching you, Linda, and you haven't lived up to the standards we demand."

       Linda's eyes turned to steel, as she retorted, "Who gives you the right to judge me?"

       Andrew puffed casually. "The American people. Congress created our secret little group shortly after Superman first amazed the world. You could call us the Superhero Intelligence Agency. People don't trust power blindly, and our job is to know everything about you, should a problem arise."

       Linda frowned, "What do you know?"

       "Oh, more than you people ever imagined," he replied with a prideful grin. "Superman and his childhood in Smallville. The secret location of the Bat Cave. The many wonders of the Fortress of Solitude. But we never felt compelled to tell the world of the secrets. We were not anxious to make enemies of people with your abilities, especially when you were fighting for what we believed in."

       Linda shook her head, "So what changed? Why are you here."

       Andrew's face grew solemn. " _You've_ changed. Heroes have to follow some standards if they want to be seen as heroes. Superman still lives by the motto of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way.' Batman, while a bit moody, never lost sight of the people he served. But you don't seem to care for American law. You don't champion American morality. And just today you undermined a police operation, making our officers look like fools in the process. You forced our hand."

       Linda looked away from Andrew, trying to decide how to judge herself. "I don't know, maybe you are right. I did break the law, and alot of people don't like what I say and do."

       Andrew sighed and said gently, "Maybe with time, and a little reassurance from you of a change ..."

       Linda interrupted with a little flame in her voice. "I'm not apologizing! I was just admitting that I am not the world's favorite Kryptonian. I may have broken the law, and I may have made the world uncomfortable, but I have _never_ gone against my conscience."

       Andrew shook his head. "I don't know, Miss Lee. America is a country of laws and principles. And we demand an even greater standard of our heroes."

       "Are you telling me to follow a law that's unfair?" Linda pleaded for understanding. "I can't just watch people suffer when I know I can help, just because of some law!" She closed her eyes, and fought back tears, "And if I offend someone, don't I have a right to free speech? I want the same right to pursue happiness as everyone else."

       Andrew snuffed out the exhausted cigarette on the sole of his shoe. Linda's voice had echoed the voices in his mind that had bothered him throughout this mission. "It's tough being a hero, isn't it? Seriously, I'm trying to understand. I'm sure you aren't always just saving some kid from falling out of a tree. It must be tough deciding on people's guilt or innocence, or whether you are helping or just interfering."

       Linda paused, and then just said, "You don't need to ask me."

       With a nod and a smile, Andrew pointed at her and whispered so Ernie couldn't hear, "I want you to know that I've always kinda admired you."

       Linda couldn't contain her surprise.

       "No, really," he continued, as he drew another cigarette from his pocket. "You've had a much tougher life than Superman had. You're a bit of a maverick, and that's why America is scared of you. But secretly everyone admires a maverick."

       Linda shrugged, "Thanks, but I need more than you're admiration, now."

       Andrew rolled the cigarette back and forth between his fingers, and looked out the broken window. A van was turning onto the main road, and heading towards the little house. He wished that he had more time to think things through.

       "I'm letting you go," he said, as he put the cigarette to his lips. "I hope I'm doing the right thing." He said as he put the cigarette to his lips. "And I hope you won't hold all of this against me."

       Andrew reached for his lighter, when suddenly his cigarette lit apparently by itself.

       Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up at him. He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.

***

       Now I felt that I really understood what the Cubans went through in that house. Now maybe I truly understood the American Way. To America, the Cubans and I were the same. Cuban aliens and aliens from Krypton. Tear gas and Kryptonite. Communists and Lesbians. America had no sympathy, no due process, and no respect for human rights.

       When those three agents forcibly entered our house, I felt that America had betrayed me. When they stared at me, naked and suffering and completely at their mercy, I saw their thoughts in their eyes -- the desire to rape, to conquer, to plant the good ol' American flag in my womb.

       Thank God for Andrew, a man with some sense and some heart. Apparently he was also a man with some influence. The three agents left as quickly as they had come, and Carol and I were able to continue our lives with the same privacy that we had had before.

       But I could not forgive America merely because of the conscience of one man. America and I were in a state of cold war. Every day, the media attacked my character and my support of the Cubans. I went on strike, refusing to be Supergirl, refusing to help the powers that be. I disappeared into an anonymous college life, and I could frequently be seen among the revolutionary crowd. But no matter what I did, I still felt dead inside. It was so depressing, hating my country and my country hating me.

       Carol was much more forgiving than I, and she tried to help me see the good side of America. She reminded me constantly of the great humanitarian efforts, the Marshall Plan, and Welfare system. Blah, blah, blah. It was all so abstract.

       Then Carol tried something kind of desperate.

       I returned home from a class, as depressed as ever. My depression sank even deeper when I thought that Carol wasn't home. Sad and lonely. I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I wasn't hungry, though, and I just left it on the table. I decided to just go to sleep and hide from the world.

       When I opened the bedroom door, Carol was standing there, holding one hand high over her head. She was wearing a Statue of Liberty costume. I couldn't suppress a smile.

       "Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Carol."

       Carol pointed at me and whispered with inviting lips, "America needs you."

       I moved into her embrace and kissed her lips. Carol abruptly slipped out of her robe and spread herself on the bed. "Its time you explored this great land of yours, America the Beautiful!"

       I smiled and eagerly fell into her fantasy. I donned the appropriate dress for such an exploration, and I climbed up over her.

       The first stop on the tour was the delta of her neck, where the rivers of hair on her shoulders and breasts met the vast ocean of hair above. I sailed along the delta with my lips and explored a little under the ridge of her ear. I could feel the tremors from a sensitive, subterranean fault. I decided to test this fault further by sailing to the delta on the other side.

       Carol mischievously poked a finger between my legs.

       "Hey!" I said, smiling. "That's breaking the rules. I'm the explorer."

       "Its just a curious little Indian, checking out the new visitor to the land," she replied. The little Indian knew exactly where to rub.

       I moved out of the Indian's reach, and headed for the heartland. I settled on the little hill in the north-east. At the top of the hill was a basket of fruit, and it seemed like a good spot to settle. While I sucked on the fruit and stroked it with my tongue, I sent my hands exploring the world on the other side. They quickly traveled from the mesas to the plains, then diligently land-formed the southern mountain range.

       The little Indian, frustrated by being dislocated, resettled in an area around my cheek.

       Eventually, I decided to move on. I became a pioneer, and I slowly left trails of saliva across the vast desert of her body. I momentarily paused at an oasis, dipping my tongue into the well. The oasis was just a glimpse of the promised land to come.

       Soon, I found myself on the edge of what seemed like the Everglades, except that the forest was removed. It was a hot, moist place. I knew there were alligators in the Everglades, so I detoured around it and decided to explore the leg of Florida first. But I never traveled far from the Everglades. I hovered nearer and nearer, tasting the moisture as I neared the border. At last, I nuzzled the rich, fragrant flower. At last I found the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Like a good explorer, I explored the channels with my tongue, and sought out every nook and cranny. I sucked on the tiny swellings and nubs, while my nose squeezed into the canals.

       Eventually, the natives got restless, and all ten of them urged me into the waiting cavern, to drink from the fountain. I opened the cavern wider with my fingers, and dove my tongue into the spring within, while massaging the cave walls with my nose. The fountain refilled the spring as fast as I could drink from it. Eventually, when the spring was empty, I spread her lips wider, revealing the full glory of the cavern walls, and allowing me to explore even deeper and wider. Eventually the natives got so restless, and the firmament shook and moved so rhythmically, I moved to the source of the fountain's power, and handled it with expert care. The whole world seemed to shake and moan, as my tongue circled and dove, faster and faster. Finally, it was the Fourth of July, and I kept circling and diving until the last roman candle lit the sky.

       It was all over too soon.

       With the expedition complete, I climbed up and laid beside Carol, who looked over to me and smiled. "America is greatly in your debt."

       I smiled, and said, "Those natives were awfully pushy."

       Carol rolled on top of me. "Now its time to explore the uncharted terrain of Krypton."

       I laughed and closed my eyes, surrendering my body to America.


	5. Frisking the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Supergirl finds herself very frisky upon meeting the Catwoman, and discovers powers that those around her will find quite disturbing. Prepare for a rise in temperature.  
>   
>   
> 

Wearing a red and blue costume, I could move mountains, and everyone listened when I talked. But wearing a brown wig and simple attire, it seemed the only jobs available to me were as a secretary or a waitress. I was just one in a million college grads entering the job market during a recession.

       I finally landed a job several months after graduation in a marketing research company, punching numbers and names into a database. The night hours sucked, and the pay really wasn't enough to live on. Unfortunately, being a superhero was voluntary work. Maybe I could use it as a charitable deduction on April 15.

       Now, at 1 am, I was a passenger on a subway train from Downtown Station to South Metropolis. I could fly home in under a minute, but the train ride lasted almost a half an hour -- just one more cost of having a secret identity and trying to live a normal life. Yeah, right, as if commuting home at one in the morning was normal!

       Though I guess it wasn't unheard of, because I often shared the train with a small number of fellow commuters, usually tired, sometimes insane, and always looking as unhappy as I must have looked.

       Tonight (this morning?) there were four of them sitting across from me, three men and a woman, who were obviously together, but who didn't speak a word for the first ten minutes of the ride. I crossed my legs at the knees, because one of the men was looking at me. There wasn't much else for him to look at, I guess, but he was almost leering. Maybe he was just admiring my legs, or maybe he caught a glimpse up my miniskirt and happened to see my pussy in all it's glory. Maybe he saw the blush on my face, because the thought of being "found out" always turned me on, which, of course, is one reason why I never wore panties. And that often led to an escalating cycle, as my excitement made me wetter than any normal woman, so the juices dripped down my thighs, making my chances of being found out all the greater.

       But he didn't do anything or let on that he knew, and I was surprised to feel sad. It made me long for my college days, when a glimpse of my bare pussy would draw men in like bees to honey -- or at the very least, draw a reaction.

       Back at MU, people always looked for an invitation to meet someone new, and I made new friends almost every day. I never ate alone, never walked alone, and rarely slept alone. Funny how I sometimes wished for more privacy back then. At parties, men packed like wolves around me, trying to get me drunk, not knowing that they didn't stand a chance. At getting me drunk, that is.

       Now, I longed for the parties and the harassing. Now, in "the real world", almost everyone respected each other's privacy and minded their own business and took no chances until they were in the safety of their own homes. What was wrong with society? What happens to people when they leave the security of the campus? And then it occurred to me that whatever was wrong with society was wrong with me, too. I haven't been with someone in months, and my best friend is my cat Calvin.

       I was afraid to approach people, the same as everyone else. I don't know what I was afraid of, though. I didn't need to worry about criminals or cops, like most other people did. Maybe I was just afraid of offending someone, or doing something wrong. Maybe I needed the support of my friends before I could reach out.

       I know now how much I relied on friends to make my life happy. They would push the boundaries, and I would follow behind them. They would knock on my door, and all I needed to do was invite them in. But I never knocked on doors myself.

       Almost unconsciously, I shifted my sitting position. I crossed my legs at my ankles, and my thighs were slightly apart. The young man across from me had a straight line view to my pussy, now, but it was just a fraction of an inch wide. I rested my hands on my lap, pushing my skirt between my thighs, stealing away even the suspicion of daylight.

       It was amazing how just the slightest possible hint of an invitation can catch a man's eye, because the young man was now sweating, and his friends were taking notice now, too. Even the young woman raised an eyebrow.

       I felt a rush run through my body. _Careful, Linda, you are losing control again,_ a wise voice whispered. But I've had a hard time listening to that voice lately. I swear that since I came to earth, my sex drive has gone into overdrive. That yellow sun melted my will, and the loneliness of having no lover for several months fed my desire and made me a little irrational at times.

       I tried to fight it. I looked away from the curious eyes of the strangers and read some of the advertisements posted on the train's walls between the windows: There was a picture of a rather handsome guy with an eye patch and a pistol, starring in a movie called: Escape From Gotham City. One poster was for Marlboro cigarettes, which had a skull and crossbones spray-painted over it. A third poster was of a very attractive woman, with the text: " _I'm Horny, Call Me at (900) 481-3643"_. And the last poster from Nike was very simple; it proclaimed in bright big red letters: _Just Do It!_

       So much for distractions, I thought, as I shifted my legs, casually rubbing my thighs together. When I realized how erotic that must have seemed to the strangers, I opened my mouth in surprise. Then I thought how erotic opening my mouth might seem, so I covered it with my hand and glanced at them. They stared back at me in surprise and fascination, and I felt like cursing myself. I was so turned on now that even when I was trying to act modest, it appeared like I was flirting.

       Hell, who was I kidding? I _was_ flirting! I was pretty shy usually, and I didn't have a bubbling personality, but how modest could I really be? I liked wearing a skin-tight shirt that showed my nipples whenever I was excited, which was often. I always wore a tiny miniskirt, with no undies, and every couple of weeks, I shortened my skirts even a tiny bit more. My pussy underneath was completely bare (I burned the hair off with my heat vision). Obviously, I wanted people to notice.

       But denuding my pussy in that way irritated it a little, exciting it even more than normal, and now, with everything else conspiring to excite me, my pussy was soaking wet and flowing steadily. I couldn't stand it. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the strangers as I pressed my thighs together and gyrated my ass on the hard metal seat, trying to satisfy my itch in a most ineffective way. My pussy was aching for attention. I opened my eyes halfway and stared at my captivated audience. I opened my mouth and licked my lips. I couldn't hear that tiny wise voice anymore. Instead I glanced over at the poster: _Just Do It!_

       I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and raised my skirt. My pussy, slightly pink from irritation, glistened in the bright overhead lights. I soaked my fingers in the juices and spread the soothing moisture over the irritated skin. I exhaled loudly, almost a gasp, almost a sigh of relief, it felt so good!

       Then, like background noise, I heard that tiny harassing voice scolding me. It was accompanied by a symphony of other voices, that altogether became white noise. The only distinct voice that kept ringing in my mind was: _Just Do It!_

I parted my pussy lips with my finger tips, showing my tenderest skin to people I knew nothing about. And from that most intimate place flowed the message, _come to me._

       One of the men answered the call. He knelt between my legs for a better view of the show. I opened my lips wider, giving him the best view I could, while I massaged my clit with my other fingers. Droplets gathered and ran down to my asshole, going to waste. _Oh, please, don't just stand there!_

       Another man sat down beside me, watching from a different angle. He was watching my face, my other lips, as they also opened wide in esctacy and longing.

       Then, suddenly, a tongue reached deep into my pussy, sending a shock wave through my body. I quickly withdrew my hands, moving them to my neglected breasts, squeezing them through my blouse, while surrendering my pussy to the man's will. He nibbled on my clit. I gasped and cried out and wrapped my thighs around his head in reflex. _Oh, a little faster! Oh, a little harder!_

       The other two men took hold of my legs, holding them apart, while he grabbed two handfuls of my ass, and pulled me to his ravenous mouth. I buried my fingers in his hair, holding on as if to a support on an amusement park ride. I could barely contain my enthusiasm. My ass was suspended in mid air now, as he tore into my pussy, while the others helped him out. And to think just a moment ago I was worried what they would think of me!

       The woman was meandering around the scene, watching the action, amused. She had a vaguely sly smile on her face. As my body tingled and an ache consumed me, about to turn in an instant into the height of pleasure, I wished for the woman to join in. I wanted for her to kiss me hard, right now. I think she wanted to. She stepped closer. But she didn't, and that disappointed me, even as my body and mind were at a critical state, orgasm imminent.

       The skyrockets exploded in my mind. My body quaked, my eyes teared, and I was crying out uncontrollably, but my cries were overwhelmed by the din of the train rushing through a tunnel.

       And then everything seemed silent again.

       As I came back down to Earth, I found myself looking into the eyes of the man who sent me to heaven. His rough features almost looked beautiful. That's what a mind shattering orgasm will do to me. I stroked his hair and whispered. "Hi. My name is Linda."

       He smiled, but it was a slightly mischievous smile. "Hi Linda with the great tasting pussy."

       I smiled back.

       The train was slowing down and a voice came over the overhead speaker: _Now stopping at Washington Crossing, take Red Line to Gotham. Next stop: South Metropolis._

       The man wiped his chin on his sleeve and stood up. "Our stop."

       I felt a sudden sense of loss when he said that; I didn't want them to go. I hurriedly collected myself. I straightened my skirt and made sure my wig was on straight. The four strangers gathered at the door to the subway car, when it opened.

       "Can I come with you?" I asked hopefully. After sharing myself with them so intimately, they were very appealing to me. I wanted to be one of them, whoever they were. I wanted to disappear into their lives.

       He smiled. "You already have."

       The woman laughed wickedly. "Thanks for the entertainment. We must do it again some time."

       I watched them leave. They never looked back at me.

       I don't know how I felt. My emotions were overwhelming my thoughts -- sex always seemed to do that to me. What did that woman mean? Was she being sarcastic? Was she insulting me? Or did she mean what she said, but in a playful way?

       The train pulled away. The strangers disappeared from view, leaving me all alone, wondering what I had gained from my stunt.

       Part of me was glowing inside, feeling a sense of power and victory. Bending steel beams and doing acrobatics in the air always came easily to me, but I never thought I could rise above my inhibitions like that.

       A part of me argued that I didn't rise at all, but fell as low as I could fall. My inhibitions were my strength, and I had come away from the experience with less than I had before.

       Then, suddenly, I realized in horror, how true that was. My purse was gone! In all the excitement, I never saw the strangers snatch my purse. Inside I had some money and IDs, but far more importantly, that's where I kept my Supergirl uniform!

       If I hurried, I could break through the door and chase them down.

       But I couldn't. I was paralyzed by embarrassment over the thought of facing them. A few minutes ago, I was just an anonymous woman, gambling with my reputation in front of a few strangers. Now Supergirl's reputation was thrown in the pot, and the whole world might see.

       So I slumped back on my seat, sighing, and I stared at the Nike poster. God, I was so stupid sometimes! Why didn't I listen to that wise little voice? I couldn't help but listen to her now, screaming her I-told-you-so-s, reminding myself over and over again how stupid and dirty I was.

 

* * *

       I stepped off the train about five minutes later, and I felt a little better, a little less worried. It even seemed a little funny, now. What was that saying? _Whatever will be, will be._ Let them say what they will say, do what they will do. Let the naked truth come out, and it will set me free! Free from shame, free from fear, free from clothes, free from that silly looking costume!

       I laughed out loud, and my laughter echoed off the houses nearby, and it sounded so hollow that I shivered and realized how truly worried I was. This was a disaster; there was no point in pretending it didn't matter.

       But what point was there in worrying, either? I guess the only thing I could do now is wait -- and work on damage control.

       Ok, think, Linda, what _can_ you do? The costume is the key. When they show it to the media, you are dead.

       _If_ they show it, I reminded myself.

       Then I felt a burst of optimism: how could they be sure the costume in my purse was real? Some companies sell imitation costumes as fetishes.

       But fake costumes will burn in a fire, I reminded myself. Fake costumes aren't bullet proof. They will test it, and they will know.

       And a fake costume was apparently what I would be shopping for soon.

       I laughed out loud again, as I walked around the corner. I don't know if I was laughing or crying when I arrived home.

       I was through the door and almost in the kitchen before I noticed that the lights were on in my apartment. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

       I spun around so fast that the man attached to that hand was thrown to the floor.

       I struggled to identify the intruder through the fog of my emotions, until my memory came back to me, and I recognized his face.

       No, I thought, shaking my head. He couldn't have _possibly_ known, not so soon. Hell it only happened about fifteen minutes ago! He couldn't be _that_ good.

 

* * *

 

       "Andrew?"

       "Geez, Linda," he replied while still lying flat on his back. "If I had known you were so easy to sneak up on, I wouldn't have pretended like we were the Impossible Mission Force the last time."

       "The Last Time" was two years ago, when I was a junior at MU, and, as Supergirl, I was was brushing people with political power the wrong way. Andrew was an agent in an ultra-secret intelligence agency for the government. Apparently, despite all of Superman's and my good deeds, the government considered us potentially greater threats to national security than even the Soviet Union in it's prime. Publicly, we were treated like heroes, but behind the scenes, the government tried their best to control us, how we acted, who we slept with, what we said. So they created a secret branch under the NSA called the SSA (Superhero Surveillance Agency).

       Andrew had been the agent in charge of bringing me to "justice" for various transgressions, and he proved he was up to the challenge. He had actually had me at his mercy. He could have done with me whatever he wished. But he let me go, breaking orders from above, and no doubt taking a lot of flack in the process. As much as I hated what he had done to me, I admired him for his courage to live by his conscience.

       That was the only time we had met each other, but Andrew did call me several times since. He'd ask me innocent questions, like how was college going, did I have any new friends, did I really like my hair that way. I didn't know what to make of it. Maybe he was just trying to be my friend so he could be more influential, but I believed that he liked me, regardless of what else he was up to, and I found myself opening up to him.

       Then he stopped calling, more than a year ago, and I had almost forgotten about him. Until now.

       "I hope you don't mind that I waited for you inside. The door was unlocked, so I took the liberty. Oh, and I fed your cat. It was the only way to keep him off of me."

       "Why are you here, Andrew?" I eyed him curiously.

       "Why?" he said, as he stood and straightened his suit. "Because I think I can help you."

       "Oh?" I sat down on the sofa and motioned for Andrew to sit with me. "What makes you think I need any help?"

       "Because I've been watching you," he said simply, as he sat closer than I had expected.

       "Oh, that's right. I forgot you did that sort of thing, peeping through my windows, listening in on my private conversations," I said with a smile that contradicted my deeply sarcastic tone. I accidentally touched his leg as I tried to adjust my skirt.

       Andrew shifted in his seat, as he conjured up the appropriate rationalization. "Common, Linda, the SSA only does that when we have evidence of a legal infraction. Besides, don't tell me that you've never used those super-senses of yours to invade someone else's privacy. We are only trying to level the playing field a little. It doesn't bring me any pleasure to spy on you."

       I knew that much was true. When he had captured me, I was totally naked and at his mercy, yet he didn't take advantage of the situation at all. He let me cover myself, and his dick was soft the whole time. No sign of hardness even now, as we sat very close to each other. I guess I just wasn't his type.

       And that was probably how it should be, I thought, with nothing between us. Getting involved with him would be a disaster. Besides, he was always stabbing me with criticisms, like saying that I spy on people. I replied, "Sometimes I see things that I probably shouldn't see -- I can't help that. But I don't go out of my way to spy on people's private lives like you do!"

       Andrew held up his hand as if in defense. "OK, I'm sorry Linda, I didn't come here to start an argument. I guess it's kind of hard to avoid, considering the nature of my job, that we'd be on each other's case, but really I came here hoping that we could cooperate, for a change."

       "Cooperate?" I asked, a little amused. "How could we cooperate on anything? I mean, isn't that like asking a deer to cooperate with a hunter?"

       Andrew smiled and laughed, like he might do if he was arguing about sports with his buddies. He was acting very friendly, and I couldn't tell if the emotion was genuine or if he was trying to sell himself to me. I always had a tough time knowing that about him. He said, "Don't you think that analogy is a little extreme? We have a lot of mutual interests."

       I smiled back at him, wondering what he was leading up to. "Such as?"

       "Such as your well being. Your _financial_ well being."

       I stopped smiling and looked away. "I don't want to talk about that."

       "You aren't doing very well. I know that you are two months behind on paying the rent for this little house. You are three months behind on your student loan payments, and you could go into default soon," Andrew pressed.

       I shook my head, trying not to listen to him, but I couldn't help it. Damn him! He always knew my weak spots, and he always pressed them just right. I had forgotten about that sly part of him.

       He knew how embarrassing it was to be the most powerful woman in the world, yet to live on the edge of poverty just so I could have a somewhat normal life. Being Supergirl could be fun and exciting, but most of the time I was happier when I wasn't in the spotlight, when people didn't look at me like I was some kind of freak.

       Besides, Superman and I had good reputations with the public in large part because we didn't mix heroism with personal gain. We had to be super-giving as well as super-human, or people would think of us as greedy invaders rather than welcome visitors from Krypton. For all of my powers, I couldn't force people to like me, so I always had to be above reproach. I wish I didn't care so much about what people thought of me, but I always did.

       "I understand," Andrew said kindly, "that you want to have a private life, and you want to protect your image. Believe me, that's exactly what I want, too. But you aren't serving yourself or your country well right now. The crime rate is skyrocketing at night, as criminals have noticed the pattern -- you just aren't around once the sun goes down. Fortunately for Metropolis, Superman has a steady presence. Why? Because Kent has the right kind of job for a superhero. Reporting for the Planet helps him learn about crimes in progress, and his heroics pay him back by giving him a great story to write about. Your job, on the other hand, completely takes you out of action."

       "It's the only job I could get," I objected.

       "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided on a degree in Liberal Arts," Andrew patronized. "But obviously you have much more to offer the world than just your degree."

       "Don't you think I know that?" I said impatiently, "But being a superhero just doesn't pay well, anyway, except on those rare cases where there is a reward. And then I look bad for accepting the reward."

       Andrew shook his head. "That's not quite what I had in mind. The government and the police won't pay you to be a freelance hero -- too many legal problems, for one thing. But the SSA has different needs and different legal requirements, and I have the authority to hire you as an agent, complete with good pay and benefits, all of which will be strictly confidential and hidden from the media."

       "What?" I was stunned. "You want to hire me? I thought your agency only spied on people like me -- why the hell should I trust you, anyway."

       Andrew took my attack personally, and I wished I hadn't been so harsh. "I'm sorry Linda, that we always seem to be on opposite sides of the fence. I know that sometimes the agency looks past your rights for the sake of national security, and that really sucks, but that's why I think this is such a good idea. If you are working for us, then we will have enough knowledge of your activities without the need to spy, since we will all share the same interests."

       "You mean that I would be your hitman," I said skeptically, though I was beginning to feel enthusiastic. I was also feeling a little warm inside, because with Andrew sitting so close to me, the scent of his cologne was very distracting to someone with super-senses.

       Andrew shook his head, "No, no, each mission we'd send you on would be a separate contract. You could refuse any of them. And you could be a freelance hero in your spare time, saving anyone your heart desires."

       "So I'd be selling my super-body to you for a couple hours a night, huh?" I teased, as I crossed my legs, brushing my shin against his knee in the process.

       "I guess you could look at it that way," Andrew said, suddenly feeling a little awkward, suddenly feeling a little aroused, as anyone could see. He moaned so softly that even I could barely hear it. But he inched himself a few inches further away and put back on his business face. "So what do you say? Does it sound interesting?"

       "Very interesting," I almost whispered, making him feel even more uncomfortable. I should have been paying more attention to what he was saying, but I was feeling very distracted. Knowing that I could affect him, someone I thought was invulnerable to my sexuality, sent a thrill through me that felt a little like passion, a little like revenge, since Andrew had been pushing my emotional buttons ever since we had met.

       Now, he was in the hot seat. I could hear his mouth starting to water. I could taste his fresh sweat in the air, mixing with the sharp smell of his cologne. I stroked his leg with my foot and looked into his eyes, smiling, as if to say: _would you like to see my pussy?_

       But he edged away from me in his seat and held up his hand. "Please stop, Linda, you really shouldn't be doing this. You've really got to control that sexual appetite of yours."

       "What?" I said, stunned and embarrassed. How could he say that? He was as turned on as I was.

       "Please, let's just stick to business," he continued in a cold, detached voice, as if the voice wasn't his. "We aren't animals who have to fuck whenever they are in heat. We can show a little discipline. I don't know how people acted on Krypton, but on Earth, we try to act with a little decency."

       I just stared at Andrew, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, I understood why someone as seemingly nice and gentle as Andrew could be part of such an oppressive organization. There was a whole other side to him, a side I had never seen before. There was a holier-than-thou side buried deep within him, a side that turned me off completely.

       Then his voice softened, and he was Andrew again. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to be insulting. Maybe we should just forget about it and talk about your new job."

       "Sure," I nodded, anxious to get past the awkward moment. "Let's get down to business."

 

 ***

       The dark side of Andrew didn't return for the rest of his visit, and before too long, we were even teasing each other a little, but with the clear understanding that nothing would happen.

       But mostly we stuck to business, and we ironed out the details and conditions of my new employment.

       Simply put, Andrew was hiring me for two or three missions per week on average. Andrew asked me to wear a beeper, so he could contact me in an emergency, but I refused. I hate beepers. I told him if he really wanted to get my attention, wear that sexy cologne he was wearing, and I'll drop everything and come for him. I think I almost got to him with that.

       But he got me better by waving a wad of $100 bills in front of my face. He would pay me $2000 up front, in cash, for each mission. I'm sure now as I think back I could have bargained with him for much more, but I was so awed when he handed me the money that I stopped thinking and started dreaming of everything I could do with it. All my days of debt, coupon hunting, eating leftovers and riding the subway were finally over, and I could barely even imagine asking for more.

       And Andrew surprised me again by already having a mission for me to start tomorrow night.

       "The Catwoman has been burglarizing Gotham City for years now, but we've never been able to catch her," Andrew said, as he handed me a few pictures.

       "Are these the best you have?" I asked, as I looked at each photo. Catwoman was barely visible in any of them. In three of the four she was in the shadows, and in the last, the picture was so under exposed that all I could see was her silhouette. "They don't even look like the same woman."

       "Really? How many women do you know that have that kind of body?" Andrew said with barely hidden admiration. "She looks a little different because she wears several different costumes. We don't know how many. Sometimes she wears black leather, sometimes purple or grey spandex or rubber. Her real name is Selina Kyle, but we only have this one picture of Selina when she was very young," Andrew said as he handed me the last 3x5 Kodak print.

       This was a very good picture, but she must have been only about 14, and I didn't know how helpful it would be. Still, I looked at it for several minutes. There was something haunting and vaguely familiar about it. She was sitting on a park bench in a playful pose, a bit too erotic for a girl that age, with her head slightly arched, her long black hair falling away to unveil the full of her neck and shoulders. She stared back at the camera with a hint of a smile and an aura of confidence.

       "We've been trying to get her for two years now, but she's been very slippery. She has many friends, because she likes to spread some of the bounty from her conquests around, giving some to the poor and to charities, so she has a kind of Robin Hood reputation. Sometimes she even helps bring other, more notorious criminals to justice, winning her favor even among some cops, who confuse her activities with those of the many vigilantes that protect Gotham City."

       Andrew's voice seemed to be glowing as he talked of her. Perhaps even he was confused about his feelings towards her, I thought, when suddenly his tenor changed. "But really she is an sly opportunist. She is an example of how criminals can take advantage of Gotham's fascination and need for vigilantes. The city is overwrought with crime. Many citizens take the law into their own hands, because the police can't handle the epidemics of gangs, guns and plunder. Catwoman courts both sides, mixing good deeds with bad, so she tends to slip through the cracks, and only the people she steals from realize what she really is -- a criminal, pure and simple."

       "How can I find her?" I asked, "or is that part of the job?"

       Just then we were both startled by a ringing sound from within Andrew's briefcase. "Just a second." Andrew answered his cellular phone on the third ring, listened for a moment, his eyebrow raised, then he hung up.

       "Well, that was very interesting timing," Andrew said. "I was just about to tell you that we were hoping to use your powers to find the Catwoman, but I guess we won't need that. She just sent an unprotected message over the internet; she forgot to encrypt it. Apparently she plans to rob an art museum tomorrow evening. We don't know which one, but since there are only about five important museums in Gotham City, you should have no trouble finding them."

       "Wow!" I said in amazement. "Looks like my first day is gonna be a piece of cake!"

       Andrew frowned. "Don't even think that way. It's rare for the Catwoman to slip up like this. She may even have noticed her mistake and changed her plans. We've thought that we've had her a dozen times before. Once we even had her cuffed and in the cruiser, and she managed to escape and disappear down an empty street."

       "She won't be able to escape from me," I said with a smile.

       "That's what we're counting on."

* * *

       Andrew stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in a spare bedroom, and he left long before I awoke around noontime.

       For the first time in months, I had a very pleasant sleep, and it was all due to Andrew and the hopes he gave me for this new job. He fussed over me, making sure that I wouldn't say no. He even told me that he would take care of my former employer, so I didn't need to go through the anxieties of quitting or giving my two week notice. He made me feel very important.

       I knew that I was making a compromise. I was giving up what I had once thought that I really wanted -- living my life as a normal woman. Lately, though, I had begun to think that normalcy was overrated. Normal living has left me poor and lonely, especially since Carol left several months ago.

       Carol never said it, but I always knew she left because I wasn't as exciting as I was once was, back in the days when I enjoyed being Supergirl. It turned her on to see me on TV all the time, rescuing people, crushing criminals, and then having me come home to her every night, surrendering myself to her.

       Then came the confrontation with the police, the media attacks, and my capture by the SSA. I learned what came with being a hero. Being a hero meant that I couldn't say what I believed, if it wasn't PC. I couldn't even help people without worrying that someone would sue me, for, say, breaking down an historic wall to prevent a murder. And then I made my biggest mistake by complaining about it, so the media jumped on me, portrayed me as an ungrateful superbitch on a power trip. That's when Supergirl all but disappeared from the scene, and I became Linda Lee full time.

       Now Andrew has brought back that old excitement again when he told me that my country needed me. It was a message I was ready to hear. After struggling as a college grad for so long, denying myself the pleasures of my powers, I felt like a bird stuck in a cage. I was dying to get out and fly.

 

* * *

       But I couldn't be Supergirl without a costume. Flying around in my regular work clothes would seem wrong. Inappropriate.

       Unfortunately, I had very little time to solve this problem, since I had to be Supergirl in just a few hours. I called all the costume stores in Metropolis. Most had Superman and Wonder Woman costumes, but they didn't carry Supergirl costumes even during Halloween. Finally, I slammed down the phone in disgust. I felt that unappreciated feeling again, but really what did I expect, anyway, having virtually disappeared from public view for so long.

       Only three hours left. I had to think of something fast. Maybe if I bought a Superman costume I could modify it.

       Then I thought about the vast array of costumes that the Catwoman had, and I smiled: Why not completely redesign my costume? After all, I had always thought that cape and those long red boots looked more than a little silly.

 

* * *

       The Luther Lakeside Galleria was only a five minute ride on the subway. It was a beautiful outdoor shopper's world, with a Japanese Garden on one end, a stadium on the other, and hundreds of stores in between. I felt excited being there with money in my pocket, for a change. I was drawn to the shop windows, and I kept thinking how reasonable the prices seemed -- prices that would have seemed obscene only yesterday. Thankfully, I didn't have much time on my hands, or I might have lost control of myself. I kept reminding myself that I was shopping for a new costume, nothing else.

       I had a hundred ideas about what my new costume should look like. I struggled to keep my imagination from getting too lavish or impractical. I saw a stunning blue and red designer dress that would be extremely awkward when I was flying, and a daring bathing suit that would probably ruin my reputation again. I tried to keep myself sensible.

       The most important part of the costume was probably the shirt. People should realize who I am as soon as they see me, and I thought I had the perfect solution: There was a store in the mall that would print any picture onto a T-shirt in under a half hour. I felt conspicuous as I handed my "S" symbol to the young man at the counter. Maybe he would recognize me or put two and two together. While he was clearly looking me over, his eyes didn't light up, and I don't think he made the connection. Even if he did make the connection, it shouldn't matter, as long as I didn't identify myself as Linda Lee.

       "Small, Medium, Large, or X-Large," he asked.

       That was a simple question I wasn't at all prepared for. I had a chance to remake my image for the world,. My real costume had always been a little tight, and some people even claimed it was indecent because my nipples would show through the fabric. There was one issue of Metropolitan Weekly in which I swear they air-brushed my nipples out. The rebel in me demanded the small T-shirt.

       But another part of me wanted to do things right for a change. I didn't want to offend people, least of all Andrew who was giving me another chance. He wasn't sure about me. He had put his reputation on the line to get me this job. He didn't say it, but I could see it in his eyes. The SSA wouldn't never have hired me if not at his urging, and I owed it to him to be the model superheroine.

       "Well?" The impatient young man asked.

       "Medium," I finally replied. Then, after a long pause, "and a small one, too." That was just for me -- I wouldn't need to wear it in public.

       I was surprised how nice the red "S" looked on plain white. It was simple and fresh and liberating. It felt like a discovery. Supergirl was long past due for a makeover.

       Still, I was a little afraid to experiment with my traditional uniform. I spent about 30 minutes trying to find a simple red miniskirt before I realized that miniskirts were out of fashion. So once again I was forced to be creative. Maybe a simple pair of blue jeans would be the right touch to go along with the T-shirt. It sounded sensible, practical, decent. Millions of women wore long pants every day.

       But I couldn't convince myself to do it. I hated the way loose fitting jeans hid my legs. I was very proud of my legs. Tight pants looked attractive, but they tore too easily. Finally I decided on a pair of loose fitting sky-blue athletic shorts, which showed off my legs almost up to my hip, yet were conservative where it counted most.

       My biggest challenge was deciding on footwear. I wanted shiny, red walking shoes, but I couldn't find a single pair that would stay on my feet while I was in flight. I was so frustrated that I even considered being the first barefooted superhero. After all, I didn't really need shoes, anyway. But even with my terrible sense of fashion, I knew that would not be well received. So I finally settled on a pair of red ankle-high boots, which wasn't too bad a compromise.

       Now, the sun was almost down, and I didn't have much time left to shop, so I hurriedly found a Filene's dressing booth. I was pretty excited, now, and I almost forgot to check for hidden cameras. Some stores spied on these dressing booths, in their ongoing war against shoplifters, but Filene's apparently had some respect for their customers.

       First, I donned the small t-shirt, which, as I had expected, hugged my breasts so tightly that my nipples were clearly visible. A bra would have solved that problem, of course, but I hated bras even more than panties. Underwear in general turned me off. It just wasn't sexy -- or maybe I was prejudiced, because underwear was foreign to Kryptonian culture.

       The medium sized t-shirt was much more modest, showing just enough of my breasts to catch the attention of the young men I would save. I wished that I could give them more to look at, and I felt a touch of regret that my days of skirt-flirting were over.

       Still, this new costume had a lot to offer. It showed off even more of my legs than the miniskirt. The muted colors made my skin tones stand out more. Maybe the simple design was even sexier than the garish blues and reds. I looked more approachable, more human, more like the girl-next-door, less like a comic book character.

       I just looked at myself in the mirror for a few minutes, striking a few poses, alternating between loving and hating the new look.

       Then I packed up Linda Lee's wig and clothes into my shopping bags, and I took a gulp. I was out of time now. The Catwoman would be making her move soon. It was time for the new Supergirl to make her move, too.

       I stepped out of the booth. A dozen eyes gravitated towards me as I left Filene's and entered the walkways of the outdoor mall. One young man carrying a shiny new surf-board was walking past me, when he stopped and stared.

       "Woah, could this be the one and only Kara from Krypton?" he asked excitedly.

       I nodded and smiled. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. "What do you think of my new look?" I asked, fishing for compliments.

       He nodded and gestured widely. "Totally hot! You could surf with me anytime!"

       That was what I needed to hear. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks!" And then I waved goodbye, as I lifted off straight up into the sky.

 

* * *

 

       Gotham City was just a hop, skip and a jump away from Metropolis for someone like me. It was only about 150 miles away, and I could fly there in under 30 minutes at a nice casual pace. I don't know why I had never visited the dark city before. It was about time I did.

       Gotham City was over-run by vigilantes and anarchists. I had always thought Metropolis was so much more peaceful and civilized than Gotham City because Metropolis had two superheroes paroling the skies and maintaining order, while Gotham had none. All Gotham needed was a hero it could count on.

       Clark didn't agree with that theory. When I first came to Earth, he warned me about going to Gotham. He said it was hard to be a hero in a place so confusing, where the the line between good and evil was fuzzy at best. Rich were pitted against the poor, whites against blacks, gangs against gangs. Everyone felt like a victim, and everyone wanted revenge. The social fabric was turned inside out, and Clark believed that going in there to help people would backfire. He compared Gotham City to a country in civil war: To avoid getting caught in a quagmire, America should never send troops into a civil war -- unless they have clear objectives.

       And that's why I was going in. I had a clear objective: To capture the Catwoman and bring her into justice. I knew that I couldn't save Gotham City from the mess it was in, but at least I could do this one small thing, remove this one cause of chaos, and help stem the tide of crime.

       Gotham wasn't as ugly as my expectations. In fact, it didn't look much different from Metropolis at night. But when I looked more closely, I could see the piles of litter along the streets and the graffiti on the walls. When I listened more closely, I could hear screams and sirens running together into a steady wail. My first impulse was to seek out those alarming sounds, offer my help, but I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I wanted to keep my objectives simple.

       If Catwoman's message was to be believed, then she would be robbing one of Gotham City's art museums tonight, and I had to keep my eyes on all five of them. But first I had to _find_ them. Andrew had marked their locations on a map last night, but finding them in a big city at night was a very different thing. I felt a little angry at myself. I could have scoped out the area earlier in the afternoon, if I wasn't having so much fun shopping for a costume at the mall. But scolding myself now wouldn't help. At least I remembered to bring the map with me, and I felt confident that I could find all five museums within just a few minutes.

       The first museum I found was The Wayne House Monument. _Ah-ha!_ I thought, as I saw stealth-like movement in the darkened building. But when I looked a little closer, I was disappointed to find only bats flying around in the caverns underneath. I glanced at the map and flew on.

       The second museum, The Art Expo, was still open to visitors, and it would remain open until 9 pm. That worried me a little. Maybe Selina intended to commit her crime under the watchful eyes of the museum security with some slight of hand. Maybe she had even bribed the security to steal the art for her. I would have to pay very close attention, but first I had to find the other three museums.

       The Gotham Museum Of Fine Arts was on the other side of town, and before I was even near the building, I could see the crime in progress. All of the rooms were dark, except one, where several people wearing black were scurrying around, removing paintings from the walls. They weren't even being careful, I thought. Anyone could see the light from the main street outside the building. Several museum employees were watching on helplessly from another room as a fortune in paint and canvas was being plundered.

       I landed on top of the building and scanned the room, trying to locate Selina, but I couldn't tell her apart from the other people. Unfortunately, my x-ray vision can yield some pretty fuzzy images, and all I could see was blobs that resembled people moving around inside. But I could see that there was no Kryptonite awaiting me inside, and there were no lead boxes hiding unseen surprises. So there was no point in sneaking around.

       With a crash, I pushed my way though a security door that led into the room. The door was a little tougher than I had expected, so I had to hit it twice before it fell away. So much for the element of surprise, I thought casually.

       The criminals gained nothing from that extra second or two. They just stood and stared at me as I paced to the middle of the room.

       "Slumming today, Supergirl?" One of the men asked with a wicked grin. He, like his companions, was dressed in black.

       "Interesting clothes," commented another, as he walked up to me and looked me over. "Let me guess. Your regular threads are still in the wash."

       A third man, wearing a cat mask just like the Catwoman's, watched on with a smile on his face and a hard-on in his pants.

       I just stood there, surprised by their attitude. Why did they seem so cocky? I tried to see their faces through their masks, but I couldn't. Obviously they treated their masks with lead or something similar. And that meant that they were expecting me, or were at least prepared for me. I felt a tingle in my back, as I came fully alert. Could this be a trap?

       I looked around the room carefully. Closed-circuit cameras were recording the robbery from multiple angles. Six witnesses, all men dressed up in identical security guard uniforms, were watching on from the next room. I couldn't even see where the robbers were taking the paintings. It almost seemed like they were taking the paintings off of one wall and replacing them on another. What was going on here?

       "Where is the Catwoman?" I demanded, barely hiding my confusion.

       "Why, I was taking a catnap in the corner," came the reply, as Selina stepped into the lit room, drawing all eyes to her. All I could do is stand and stare as she sauntered gracefully towards me.

       I knew that Selina had several Catwoman costumes, all of them daring, and I had anticipated this moment, wondering what she would be wearing tonight, whether spandex, leather, silk, or even black lace. But she took my breath away, dressed in transparent purple tights from her cat mask down to her knee high black books. Her nipples were hard and prominent behind the sheer fabric. Her trimmed pussy was moist with excitement, leaving a small dark purple spot between her legs.

       I felt my pussy react sympathetically, as Selina walked right up to me, looking me right in the eyes. "Can I interest you in a work of art?" she purred.

       I looked away, as I tried to regain my composure. I swallowed and said, "I'm here to take you in."

       Selina smiled and posed, "Oh, by all means take me in! Do you like what you see?" Then she stepped even closer, so that we were nearly touching. "Or did you have more in mind? You came here to experience something new. That's what museums are for, aren't they?"

       I felt myself sweating, and the scent of her perfume weakened my will. I tried to meet her eyes, tried not to blink. "I'm taking you in for stealing valuable art."

       Selina stroked my shoulder carefully with her clawed black glove, and I stepped back. "I didn't steal anything. We were just rearranging things a bit."

       "Well ... I'm taking you in anyway," I said. "We have a long list of crimes over the years."

       "I'm sorry, but you aren't taking me anywhere," she whispered in my ear. "Instead, I think I'll be taking you."

       I felt my heart racing. "What do you mean? How will you stop me?"

       Selina gestured towards the security guards in the other room, and then rested her glove on my hip. "You see, if you don't do exactly as I say, my friends on the other end of these closed-circuit cameras will blow these nice people to tiny bits."

       It was a trap! "What do you want me to do?"

       I gasped when Selina's glove stroked down my shirt and slipped into my shorts. My knees gave, and I collapsed against her her larger body, suddenly breathing heavily, suddenly staring deeply into her eyes.

       "Why nothing at all, for the moment," she purred. And then she kissed me.

       The power of her kiss sent shivers down my body, weakening me. What kind of perfume was she wearing? It was making me dizzy, and my heart was racing . . .

       But I had to keep my wits about me. I couldn't let these feelings overwhelm me. These were dangerous feelings that could sap my powers. I should be trying to think of a way out.

       I stepped away from the Catwoman and tried to collect myself. "I can't do this," I said, scanning the rooms, looking for bombs, but I couldn't see them. Maybe they were plastic explosives, because I would have seen anything else right away. "There has to be something else you want."

       Selina touched my face with one claw, lightly scratching my skin. "Maybe I'll think of something else later," she said, then she sniffed at my neck and ear, purring. "But for now I have a craving for super-flesh."

       "I don't see any bombs," I said, stepping away again.

       Selina glanced at me hard, looking slightly offended. "Oh, would you like me to set one off? It will only kill one or two people."

       I shook my head quickly, and I let her touch me, "No, please, don't."

       What else could I do? I thought of the guards who were watching, the people I was "saving," and I felt extremely embarrassed. What was Selina going to make me do? I wouldn't let myself think of it.

       Selina smiled. "So you'll be good?" She let one clawed finger travel lazily down my chest, cutting through my T-shirt along the way, exposing my cleavage, biting into my skin.

       I nodded.

       When her finger reached my shorts, my shirt hung loose like drapes. She reached inside with both hands, followed the length of my side up to my shoulders, exposing both of my breasts along the way. Then she pushed my shirt back so that it hung loose behind me, trapping my arms like cloth handcuffs behind my back.

       "Say it," she demanded, and she leaned over and sucked on my right nipple.

       "I ...." I started, and then suddenly gasped when Selina pinched my other nipple with her claws. "I'll be good."

       Now Selina was kneeling in front of me with her clawed hands digging into my shorts. She licked her lips. "Say it again, I didn't hear you."

       "I ..." I started again, when Selina viciously tore the shorts into shreds. "I'll be good."

       "Oh, I don't I believe you," Selina said, as she looked at my bare, glistening pussy. My juices were running down my thigh. "Good girls don't shave themselves down here. Good girls never get this wet. I think being good is the last thing on your mind."

       I couldn't speak. I could barely even think.

       I closed my eyes, realizing that everyone else's eyes were wide open, staring at me, stroking my skin like ghostly fingers, filling me with fear -- and excitement. My excitement overflowed, running down my thighs almost in a stream.

       I could barely stand still as Selina licked my thighs clean.

       "Mmm, you taste so good!" she purred, as my juices ran down her face. "But you've barely quenched my thirst. Open up a little."

       She pushed my feet apart, sliding my shoes on the floor, and I struggled to keep my balance. Then the Catwoman kneeled between my legs and sniffed at my pussy. My heart was beating out of control, as I worried and anticipated what she would do next. I shuddered when she just barely touched my pussy lips with her tongue, stroking from one end to the other, but she stopped too soon. Then she held my pussy open wide with two clawed fingers, that felt like two needles, and she puckered her lips and blew on my clit. I nearly fell from the shock of the almost agonizing pleasure that shot through me. My hips thrust and spasmed. My pussy gushed like an orange being squeezed.

       Then Selina grabbed my ass and buried her claws in deep, as she dove into my pussy like a carnivore, licking and sucking and even biting.

       I couldn't keep my balance anymore, as wave after wave of pleasure stung me, and I fell like a deer torn down by a lion. But someone caught me before I could hit the ground. He held me up, as the Catwoman kept on me, ravaging her helpless prey. All I could do was moan "no" over and over.

       I gazed through half open eyes at the guards in the next room -- the innocents for whom I was offering up my body. I couldn't tell what they were thinking. Why weren't they at least using this distraction to escape? Maybe I was crazy with passion, and maybe Selina's wonderful tongue was confusing me, but that look in their eyes didn't look like disgust or disappointment or even worry. They seemed to be in wide eyed attention, and one man was even trying to sneak into the room for a better look. I couldn't believe it. I was a featured exhibit, like an x-rated Monet or Renior. I felt the last of my resistance give. My body was limp. I was defeated.

       "Mmmm, don't you pet a cat when she's affectionate?" Selina whispered, reaching behind me to free my hands.

       I closed my eyes and stroked the Catwoman's hair, while I moaned softly, then louder. Finally I was crying out without even thinking, again and again: " _YES!_ " I buried my fingers in Selina's locks when she dipped her tongue inside. I twisted when she squeezed her claws into my ass, leaving marks that would last several days, as my powers melted away. I yelled out when she nibbled on my clit. I was oh so close!

       But Selina pulled away just a moment too soon, leaving my body shivering and aching and empty. "Oh, no," I begged, totally powerless, not even able to stand on my own, "Please don't stop yet!"

       "Now let's not be greedy," Selina said, shaking her finger and licking her lips. "Remember, you promised to be good. You've had your fun, and now it's time to share."

       I nodded and reached out to her. I didn't resist her orders anymore. I only wanted to come now.

       "Oh, no, not with me," she replied. "Maybe you could start with the man who's holding you up. I think it's his turn. I think he earned it last night."

       What did she mean by that? I thought, but I forgot the question when the hands that had been supporting me let go, and I fell to the floor at his feet. When I looked up at him, he just grinned at me from behind his black mask. The cat-man. And then the cat-man lowered his pants, freeing the erection he had since I first saw him. His excitement hadn't waned, and seeing his excitement started my mouth watering.

       "On your hands and knees," Selina said, reaching down to slap my ass.

       I did as she told me without qualms. Her orders didn't seem like orders anymore. It was like her will became my will. I kneeled with my ass facing Selina and an audience behind her. I opened my knees slightly, wanting them to see my pussy, wanting someone to use it, to get me off, while I looked at the swollen dick being offered to me, and I took it in my hand. He was so hot, he might have had a fever.

       I glanced up at the cat-man, and his grin was gone. His mouth was open in expectation.

       Back down at eye level, a tiny drop of pre-cum emerged from his dick. I licked it off and circled the plump head with my tongue, but when I did, another drop replaced it. So I opened my mouth and took him in, working him like a Lifesaver with my tongue. I don't know why, but I really wanted to please him.

       Someone was behind me now, touching my pussy, stroking me with his finger. _Oh, please don't stop!_ I arched my back, jutting my pussy up even higher. Now the finger found my clit and massaged it slowly. I couldn't think about the dick in my mouth anymore. I was coming fast again, and I needed to breath.

       But the cat-man was coming fast, too, and when I was about to release his dick, he suddenly grabbed my head and thrusted in deep. He would have pushed right to the back of my throat, if my hand wasn't in the way. He thrust again, and again.

       And then I felt my ass being lifted into the air, as someone thrust in from behind, pushing in his dick in so deep I could barely fit him. I had to gasp and take a breath, when the dick in my mouth came crashing in again. And again. And again, in rhythm, the dicks filled my pussy, filled my mouth, until I could barely tell them apart. I couldn't even move. My body was suspended in the air, my hair and my ass being pulled in both directions, tossing me like a rag doll, -- except for one hand that I had firmly planted on the ground. A million sensations overwhelmed me, but I focused on that hand, putting all of my strength into it, thinking that it was my anchor, and if it went, I would be lost.

       Suddenly, the cat-man stopped thrusting and pulled my hair until it hurt. I knew he was about to come, and I had a sudden impulse, something I had always fantasized about. I wrapped my lips around his dick tight, and I pressed hard against his dick with my tongue, cutting off his semen flow. I felt his dick shaking like a volcano ready to erupt, but he couldn't. He moaned in frustration. He thrust again, but only a drop escaped before I cut him off again. He needed to come so bad that he wouldn't let me stop him. He grabbed my hand, pulling it from his dick, and then he thrust until he hit the back of my throat. I opened my mouth in reflex, just as he exploded. His hot, salty essence escaped into my mouth, shocking me, riddling me with confusion.

       I didn't know what to think or how to feel. I didn't know whether he tasted good or bad. I didn't know whether to feel violated, or to accept his essence as a gift. I only know that I didn't _want_ to feel violated.

       And I liked the way he was stroking my hair, now, making up for the pain he caused only a few moments ago. It was enough. It let me savor his salty taste before swallowing. It let me suck him until his plump red dick wouldn't give anymore and I needed some air.

       And now I could concentrate on the man behind me, who was fucking faster, now. _Oh please don't come too fast, now! Finish me off!_ I don't know know if I ever wanted anything more in my life.

       I was almost hyperventilating, when two more hands grabbed my legs and lifted my ass high into the air, and the fucking accelerated. Each thrust gave me greater pleasure and increasing pain. My pussy was very sore, now, that my lubrication was all used up, and my powers were all but gone. I couldn't bear it, yet tears ran down my cheeks, and I yelled out: " _Oh, oh! Don't stop!"_

       He didn't stop, and now it was too late. Like magic, the unbearable aching and pain changed into a mind shattering orgasm. My arms gave way beneath me, and my head fell to the ground. The world was spinning, and I was screaming, as if in pain or terror, but I felt nothing like that. I felt . . . full. I felt relieved. I felt so fucking awesome that if it didn't stop soon, it just might kill me.

       I was barely conscious when I came again, or the third time. I only remember feeling my body spasm and my arms going limp.

       Before I knew it, it _had_ stopped, and I was just lying there, naked on the floor, sprawled out, at peace. What had happened to me was like a dream, but I felt the hard cold waxed floor against my chest. I felt a cool breeze soothing my irritated pussy.

       The cat-man kneeled beside me and stroked my hair. I looked up at him. He had taken off his mask. I stared, thinking I should recognize him. He said, "Hi Linda with the great tasting pussy."

       Selina stood over me. Her tights were now soaking, and I felt strangely sorry for her. I was very confused, but I actually pitied her, that she had to work so hard to conquer me, that she plotted this rape fantasy so carefully, all for me and her friends, but not for herself.

       "Thanks for the entertainment," she said. "We must do it again some time."

       "You are going?" I asked, suddenly confused and disappointed. Then, as an afterthought, "What about the security guards?"

       "Didn't you guess?" she asked in amazement. "They aren't security guards. There is no bomb. They are just friends who wanted to be here. See?" she said with a smile as she grabbed a guard and kissed him hard on the lips.

       No, I had never guessed, and I felt a little angry and embarrassed at being fooled so easily. I tried to get up, but I could barely even manage sitting down.

       Selina, sensing my anger, raised her hand. "Don't bother trying to stop us. You won't get your powers back for at least ten more minutes yet."

       "Huh? How do you know that?" I asked. I didn't even know how long it would take.

       "My dear Supergirl," she smiled smugly, and she pushed me over with her boot, just to show her confidence. "Knowledge is everything. It's the only thing that keeps a vigilante alive and free. Tell Andrew that, like always, I was a step ahead of him."

       "What?" I asked, understanding her only a tiny bit at a time. The web I was caught in was much more intricate than I had imagined. "How do you know about Andrew?"

       "You mean he never told you? Really, you should know more about your friends before you put your trust in them."

       "We have to go now, before you get strong and angry and forget all the nice things we did for you." She gestured to the cat-man, "We owe her something to wear, after destroying her clothes."

       He dropped a very familiar purse onto my lap. "I hope you don't mind if I keep the cape," he said, grinning. "Just something to remember you by."

       And then they were gone, before I could rise to my feet. A few minutes later, just like Selina said, my powers were returning, but by then they were long gone, hiding among ten million faces in Gotham City.

 ***

       I twisted and moaned, half asleep and half awake, half remembering and half dreaming.

       I saw myself lying naked on the floor. I was paralyzed from extreme pain and pleasure. Scratches ran down the length of my sides and my legs. My nipples were sore from being sucked. My breasts were bruised from so much squeezing. My pussy was bleeding, and Selina was standing over me with my blood all over her face. She smiled at me. My blood dripped from her long fangs.

       Andrew crawled beside her and licked the blood from her lips. Then he turned his attention to me, and bore into me with a terrible glare, yelling something that didn't make sense. It sounded like . . .

       . . . the doorbell. I sat up quickly and looked around. I was in my bedroom, and the clock said 7 am. Calvin was lying at the foot of my bed, looking up at me. I was naked under the sheets. I wasn't bleeding or bruised, yet my heart was racing, and my pussy was wet with excitement, ready for fucking again. What was wrong with me? Was I a slave to my sexuality?

       The doorbell buzzed again, this time longer and more insistently.

       "Just a second," I yelled. I slipped into a bathrobe, carelessly tossed on my wig, and floated downstairs. I paused at the bottom of the stairs when, looking through the door, I saw who was on the other side.

       _Shit_! It was Andrew. I hesitated. Why was he here so early in the morning? He knows I sleep in late. He must have known about last night. _Oh, Shit!_ What was I gonna say?

       "Open the door, Linda," he said impatiently from the other side.

       I unlatched the door and let him in. He didn't look at me or say hello. He walked right past me into the living room to a hard wooden chair, sat down and told me to do likewise.

       I sat in a wooden chair facing him. I crossed my legs and covered myself as best I could with the bathrobe.

       Andrew was very angry. He was so angry he wouldn't even look at me. He just stared at the ceiling, collecting himself. For almost a minute, he said nothing. The suspense was almost unbearable. Then he finally said, "Guess what I found in my mailbox about an hour ago."

       I shivered. "I don't know," I said, but I knew it must have been bad.

       "A video tape," he spitted out, and then he paused and let the words sink in.

       I covered my face with my hands and couldn't think of anything to say, except, "Fuck!"

       "Exactly," Andrew replied. "What the _fuck_ happened? What makes you feel worse? That you let Selina get away, or that there were still a few men that you didn't _fuck_ last night?"

       "Stop it!" I said, a little shocked, a little angry. He didn't have the right to talk to me that way. I didn't even think he was capable of talking that way. "It's not like I had a choice. She _made_ me do it!"

       "That's not the way it looked on the tape," Andrew said. "You didn't even try to stop them."

       "I couldn't! She threatened to kill the security guards if I didn't do what she wanted," I told him, but not convincingly. It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. It was just a convenient excuse.

       Even so, it surprised Andrew, and he lowered his tone. "What do you mean?"

       "Weren't you listening? That's what she said."

       Andrew shook his head, "The tape didn't have sound, just visual. But what security guards? There were no security guards. And there was no bomb."

       "I thought they were guards. They looked like guards. I didn't know they were just her friends. And I thought maybe the bomb was hidden, maybe in lead." I said, clinging to my excuse, no matter how lame it seemed, no matter how much I might have even enjoyed last night, it wasn't something I chose to do.

       Andrew shook his head. "So you just let them all fuck you. With all of your powers, you could have done _something!"_

       "Like what?"

       "I don't know! You might have tried to threaten her. You might have at least objected, instead of begging for more. You are going to make me look really bad, when I have to show this tape to the agency. How can I justify hiring you now? What do we do if she makes this tape public?"

       I shuddered at the thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to let you down."

       "And what was all this crap about the t-shirt and the shorts? How did they get your costume?"

       "They stole it from me a few days ago on the train. I didn't know who they were then," I said, hoping he wouldn't press for details.

       "They stole it from you?" Andrew was surprised and more than a little confused.

       I just nodded, expecting to be grilled. _Please don't push me,_ I wished. I knew if he pushed, I'd have to tell him the truth about that train ride. I was a terrible liar.

       "And when were you gonna share this information with me? I thought we were on the same team."

       "So did I," I replied, remembering Selina's last words before she left. I was grateful to turn the blame back on him. "When were _you_ gonna tell _me_ about your connection with Selina?"

       "My connection . . .?" Andrew paused as if hit from out of nowhere. "I didn't think that mattered. It was need-to-know information only."

       "I think I needed to know. Last night . . . the museum . . . it was all a trap. They knew I was coming. They knew you were sending me," I said angrily, fighting my way out of the corner of blame. "She told me to tell you that, like always, she was one step ahead of you."

       Andrew looked shocked. He stood up and looked around the apartment. He closed the blind to the window, then he examined the lamps and the furniture, until he found a thin wire emerging from a hole in the rug and disappearing into the sofa. He tore it loose with much more force than was necessary. "That bitch!"

       "So what is this all about?" I pushed, more curious than angry, now that I was no longer in the hot seat.

       Andrew shook his head and looked away. "I hired her to work for the agency several months ago."

       "You did _what?_ You hired a criminal? What for?"

       "To help us get close to the major players in Gotham City. It made sense at the time. She had contacts we could never have. I thought she'd make a great double agent. We had a second agent watching her from the other side, in case she decided to betray us." Andrew shook his head, and either laughed or sighed. Despite his anger, he half smiled in amazement. "We never expected that she'd betray both sides."

       "What did she do?" I asked. "I mean, it must have been something pretty awful."

       Andrew glared at me and said, "I don't think you need to know any more."

       "Why? Was it something personal?" I asked, stepping closer.

       "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Let's just say we both have good reasons to get her now."

       So it _was_ personal! My mind fluttered with ideas of what it might have been. Did she steal from him? Were they lovers?

       Andrew walked away from me, as if he was afraid I might ask these questions. He walked straight for the door, and then he half turned towards me, saying, "We can't let her get away with this. I'll contact you tonight."

       "So you still want me to work with you?" I asked, barely believing it.

       He nodded. "Sure, and you can keep the video tape. I made copies before I left."

       I watched him leave, wondering and worrying what he meant by that.

 ***

       I laid on the couch, trying to catch up on some of the sleep I had lost that morning, but I was too anxious. I stared unseeing at the television, instead, feeling confused and ashamed and afraid. And then, as my mind awakened, I began to feel angry.

       I guess I can be pretty dense sometimes. Anyone would have known what he meant by that, except me. Maybe I knew what he meant all along, but it took a while for me to believe the obvious.

       I liked Andrew ever since I had met him, and I thought that he liked me, too, even when he had trapped me, even when he spied on me. If I like a man, I can look past ten flaws to the one wonderful thing about him. Andrew trapped me, but then he let me go. He would spy on me, but then he'd apologize, saying sometimes he hated his job, but he had to do it. He'd talk to me for days like he was my best friend. I thought he had a weakness for me. I thought maybe part of him secretly loved me.

       Even if it were true, he still wanted to keep me on a leash. That video tape was a leash, and he could use it to keep me in line. He saw what happened when he let me loose, like at the museum. He was angry at me, like a master would be angry at a pet for pooping on the floor. He wouldn't let me loose again.

       He was even angrier at the Catwoman. It wasn't just the anger he might have towards just any criminal. She was like a disobedient pet. She was the pet that scratched up his prized possessions. She was the pet that knocked the vase off of the mantel. She was the pet that ran away.

       And I was the pet that would pay the price. I hated being a part of his control games.

       As these thoughts of pets and cats haunted my mind, I thought about Calvin, and how I hadn't seen him at all since Andrew left. Usually when I'm lying on the couch, Calvin will leap up and cuddle with me, purring and demanding attention, making me feel better, but when I looked for him now, I saw him crouching in the corner.

       "What's the matter, Calvin?" I asked. "Did that big, bad man scare you?"

       He just stared at me, as though I was the stranger, not Andrew.

       I waited for a minute, just watching him, wondering what was wrong. He didn't look hurt, yet he just eyed me suspiciously and kept his distance. I forgot about Andrew and Selina and the anger I was feeling, as I watched Calvin, His distrust made me feel lonely and rejected. Sad to say, Calvin was my best friend, and he had always loved me unconditionally. Until now, anyway.

       Finally, Calvin stood up, stretched and said, "Meow". He leaped onto the couch. He rubbed his head against my belly. When I stroked his neck and back, he arched into my hand and purred.

       _"_ That's a good boy!" I whispered, as I rubbed his neck and back. I sheltered him and consoled him like I wished someone would do for me. I treated him like a pet should be treated. . .

       Not that I wanted for Andrew to treat me like a pet. I worked for him, and I only wanted for him to treat me with the respect an employer should have for his employees. Employees should be respected, and pets should be loved. No matter how he thought of me, he wasn't treating me right. He was using me, and I didn't want to be used anymore.

       My eye twitched and I felt my whole body shiver, when I had a shameful realization: I've let people use me for most of my life. Even worse, I think I _wanted_ people to use me, to take control of me. Carol loved to play with my emotions, and I loved the games she played. My father was very stern, and sometimes I think I earned his love by always doing as I was told. I can barely even think about what I let happen with Sam, and I virtually begged Selina to do whatever she wanted with me. No wonder people didn't respect me. I was pretty pathetic!

       _I won't let anyone do that to me again!_ My mind screamed in anger and shame and disgust. _Not Andrew, not anyone!_

       Just then, Calvin clawed his way from my arms and disappeared in the corner, again. He wouldn't even look out from behind the chair. I hadn't seen him so scared since. . . well, since he was Sam's pet three years ago.

       What happened? Maybe I let my anger get the best of me, and I squeezed him a little too tight. Maybe I pet him too hard.

       No, that wasn't it. I was angry, and maybe I wasn't being affectionate, but I was very gentle. I didn't even rub him the wrong way. I kept my ugly emotions inside, showing him only kindness, so unless he could read my mind . . .

 ***

       . . . read my mind! How could I have gone almost four years on Earth without realizing it? I guess I would have realized it earlier if I could read _other_ people's (or cat's) minds. Discovering my other powers was easy. I couldn't miss floating down a flight of stairs, or crushing a telephone in my hand, or seeing through the walls of my dorm room. But how could I have guessed that I was sending psychic signals out?        

       I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, imagining that my body smelled like catnip and it felt like a warm, soft spot in the sunlight.

       A moment later, Calvin jumped back on the sofa and nuzzled against my belly.

       I smiled, now knowing that I was right. Calvin had read my mind.

       I closed my eyes again and imagined a familiar field with bushes and trees and small mice scurrying through the grass and darting into holes in the ground.

       Calvin looked quickly up at me, and then around the apartment. He leaped from the sofa and onto the window sill. He stared outside, looking for mice to chase.

       I closed my eyes again and thought of a giant Rottweiler, staring at Calvin, foaming at the mouth, and barking like thunder.

       Calvin spun around in panic, fell from the window sill and disappeared under the sofa, as deeply hidden as he could get.

       Why did I do that? I covered my face, laughing in shame and amazement.

       I looked under the sofa and saw Calvin staring suspiciously back at me. "I'm sorry Calvin. That was very mean of me."

       I felt really guilty for scaring him like that, betraying his trust. The funny thing was that I was still smiling, and not in a nice way. I was so amazed by how quickly the predator had become the prey.

 ***

       I hadn't walked the pathways of Metropolis University since I graduated several months ago, but I thought there was no better place to experiment with my newly discovered power. After all, everyone played mind games there, it seemed. When I was a student, I played them, too. I had been hungry for friends, until I learned that with a little teasing in my short skirts and tight t-shirts, I would have as many friends as I could handle.

       Just rummaging through my old school clothes made me shiver in excitement. I put on a one piece gold colored dress, with a matching gold jacket and gold shoes. Mary once told me that the gold highlighted my long brown hair. She had much better fashion sense than I did, so I believed her.

       As provocative as my work wardrobe was, my school clothes were twice that. The jacket completely covered my breasts, encouraging curious eyes to either look in my eyes -- or travel south. The dress ended in a microskirt that barely covered my ass and fell less than an inch below my pussy. Unlike the red skirt of my Supergirl costume, this skirt was form fitting, clinging to my ass.

       Even so, I didn't call very much attention to myself, because roughly half of the women on campus were dressed similarly. The rule among college girls, it seemed, was to dress to the extreme while still being legally decent.

       Right now, brightly colored tights seemed to be in fashion. I walked past one woman who was wearing purple from head to toe. She reminded me very much of how Selina looked in the museum, except this college girl's tights were not see through -- at least to ordinary eyes. She pushed the limits by shaving her pussy and wearing nothing under her tights, so the shape of her pussy lips were clearly visible, as if the tights were a second skin. I admired that.

       We were both pushing the limits, really, but she was getting more looks than I was. I could steal some of her attention by just reaching down to pick up a pen -- I might even get the police's attention. But without breaking the rules, I couldn't compete.

       Miniskirts were falling out of fashion. The skirt flirt has lost some of it's mystery, because everyone knew that most women were completely decent underneath. Tights gave men more too look at, but left less for their imagination or anticipation, so I knew that some day soon, miniskirts would come back.

       Men just needed to start believing again. They were tired of watching a closed cookie jar, just in case it might open. They were tired of the promise of paradise, but no sign of it. They wanted a glimmer of hope, like a mirage in the horizon, or a rumor of a sighting, just to keep their faith alive.

       And then I smiled as I realized I could give them exactly what they wanted.

       I paused for a moment at a crossroads, letting people pass around me, and I concentrated on my appearance. I thought especially hard about my miniskirt, imagining that it was two inches shorter. I imagined that my pussy lips were barely visible to people walking by. They were just a hint of pink below the gold hemline.

       When I opened my eyes, half of the people within thirty yards were staring at me. Maybe they were just staring at the weirdo who stopped in the middle of traffic with her eyes closed, I thought, so I started walking again, and sure enough, they were still looking, eyes slightly down, following my ass.

       This time, with my eyes opened, I concentrated on my leg, and I imagined that a drop of pussy juice was rolling down my thigh, glistening in the sunlight.

       And wow! What a reaction! I felt everyone's eyes on me now, and a few men were even following close behind.

       Then, as I emerged from the shadow of a building, I walked into a cool breeze that sent a chill over my body, between my legs, and over my thighs. That's when I felt the moisture -- the tracks of two _real_ droplets that had settled behind my knee. I was having so much fun imagining that I didn't know how real my fantasy was. My pussy was overflowing.

       _Oh, God!_ I thought, in shame, and I walked quickly now. Embarrassment brought more excitement, and more evidence. At least I was walking too fast now for people to see. I hurried into the Mulligan Social Science Hall, and found a deserted corner, where I paused to collect myself.

       This is becoming a habit, I thought to myself as I wiped my legs clean. I keep getting myself into these kinds of situations. I want to be a good girl. I want to be a bad girl. I want to do the right things -- but I want to break all the rules, and I don't want to be caught. Or do I? God, I'm messed up. I need to see a shrink.

       Which, in a way, is why I was here.

 ***

       "Linda!" Pamela shouted in surprise. She emerged from behind her desk to greet me. She was wearing one of those fashionable skin tight suits, and I felt a little more comfortable. She wouldn't give me those silly Freudian comments, like "penis envy" or like connecting my desires to the death of my father. She was a good-bad girl herself. Besides, she was into much more unorthodox theories.

       "Hi Pam," I said, as I wrote my name down on the sign-in sheet. "Not much of a crowd here."

       She shook her head, and glanced away. "Nope, I think I started about twenty years too late. It was a stupid idea for a thesis, really. People just laugh when you say "ESP" today. The only people who come in are religious freaks who think I'm some kind of witch, and students who are desperate for extra credit. Why are _you_ here?"

       "Well, I'm not a religious freak, so I must be looking for extra credit, and I thought it would be kewl to get it from an old friend."

       Pam looked at me funny. "I thought you graduated."

       I shook my head, "Almost. I had an incomplete on a psych course, and I have to make it up."

       Pam looked skeptical, but she wouldn't call me a liar. Why would I lie, anyway? Just to see what I could get away with, of course.

       "Oh," she said. "So . . . are those the only reasons?"

       I shrugged. I think she probably asked everyone who walked through her door about their motivations, but it had a special meaning for me.

       A few years ago, when we were both undergrads, Pam had asked me maybe ten times to do ESP experiments with her, and I always refused. People talked about her behind her back, calling her a flake, and I didn't want to be a part of that.

       But more importantly, she had a reputation as a lesbian, and I was strictly hetero back then. I didn't want to be a part of her lesbian fantasies. I always suspected that the ESP experiments were just a scheme to get me in bed.

       But I underestimated Pam's devotion to ESP. She always hoped to do real research on the topic, and finally she had the chance as a graduate student.

       "I thought you didn't believe in this stuff, Linda," Pam said, maybe feeling used, because I would do this for extra credit, but not just to be a good friend.

       "I'm sorry, Pam. I guess I didn't have a very open mind back then. It just seemed so ... crazy, but I'm thinking now: if people can fly or turn invisible, anything is possible, right?"

       "I never thought of it that way," Pam said, less angry. "But you may have been right before. We've tested hundreds of people, and haven't found a single hint of psychic ability in anyone. I don't know why I even do it anymore, and I feel like I'm just going through the motions, now."

       "Well, let's go through the motions again," I said, with a smile. "You never know when the right person will come along." 

 

 ***

       Pam introduced me to her creation: a kind of isolation booth for two people designed to keep out all noise and external stimuli, fascillitating psychic stimulation -- or so Pam says. To me it looked like one of those confessionals that Catholics use. It even had the slide-away door inside. If I could read Pam's mind, I'm sure I'd find out that she bought it from an old church.

       But I _couldn't_ read her mind, as part one of her test bore out.

       Pam read silently from a passage in a book, and asked me what she had just read.

       "Something about disciplining pets?" I asked.

       "Huh? Uh, no. Just relax. Try to clear your mind," Pam said.

       Next she stared at a series of photographs and asked me what she was looking at.

       "Two women torturing a man?" I asked.

       "What?" Pam laughed. "No, it's just a picture of a chair. They are very simple pictures, Linda. Just one object."

       Then she told me that she was thinking of a part of her body -- that this somehow tested emotional signals.

       "Your nose?"

       "No," Pam replied, barely hiding her frustration. "I was thinking of my belly button."

       "Oh, I knew it was something with an opening."

       "Common, Linda, I know it sounds silly, but please take this seriously," she said as she turned off the light on her side of the booth. A moment later, my side lit up. "Your turn now. We are pretty sure that you aren't a receiver, so lets see if you are a transmitter. Remember, try to think only about the objects in your hand. The passage first . . ."

       I licked my lips, as I picked up a sealed envelop and opened it. I read silently:

       "The long playing record has withstood many challenges throughout the twentieth century, starting with wire recorders in the 1920's and then more serious challenges with magnetic tape technology, including reel-to-reel, 8-Track, and cassette tapes. Vinyl did not lose it's market until the advent of digitized sound, starting in the 1980's."

       "OK," I said, and then yawned. "What did I read?"

       Pam paused, then asked: "Something boring?"

       "Yeah . . .?" I said. "What else?"

       "Something about car tires?"

       Huh? Car tires? "No, let me read it again," I said and tried to concentrate very hard on what I was reading. "OK, I'm done."

       Pam paused, then finally guessed, almost desperately, "A chocolate donut?"

       "No," I said, feeling defeated. "The passage was about phonograph records."

       I was stunned. I had assumed she'd be able to read my mind -- I never even considered the possibility of failure. Had I just imagined having the power? What about my experiments with Calvin? Maybe I could only communicate with animals. What about the students on campus? Maybe they were just responding to my clothes and my attitude and the excitement running down my legs-- not to what I was thinking.

       "Hey," Pam said, with a touch of enthusiasm, "that's really not so far off. I mean, they are all round objects with holes. Try the pictures, next."

       I halfheartedly picked up the first photo. It was a picture of a red pickup truck, driving through a field.

       "A car," Pam instantly said. "No, a truck. Red, and a lot of grass."

       I gasped, suddenly awake again.

       "Well?" Pam asked.

       "You got it! Dead on!"

       "No way!" she said, trying to contain her excitement. Surely I must have been joking with her ...

       "Really, here, look," I said, holding the picture up to where she could see.

       Her eyes sparkled, but still she wouldn't let herself believe. "Try the next picture."

       Picture #2 was the Statue of Liberty, which immediately reminded me of Carol.

       "A dark haired woman," Pam said. "No, not a woman. A statue. The Statue of Liberty?"

       I showed her the picture, and she almost squealed in delight. "Oh, finally! Finally, we have proof! A real transmitter! Try the next picture."

       I was very excited, too, but a warning bell went off in my head. What did Pam mean by proof? Was she gonna hold me up as an example? Would she tell everyone about me? If an enemy knew he could read my mind, my power would become his power, and he could use it against me. I had to kill the experiment right now.

       I didn't look at the next picture. I closed my eyes and imagined a candle stick.

       "A candle?" Pam asked.

       I shook my head and showed her a picture of a grandfather clock.

       "Oh." Pam shrugged, but was still enthusiastic. "Just a fluke. Try the next one."

       I closed my eyes and imagined myself giving Pam a massage. I moved my hands under the towels, around her breasts. Then I rolled her over and sucked on her nipples.

       Pam paused, and when she spoke, she sounded embarrassed. "A, uh, massage parlor?"

       "What?" I asked, laughing and sounding as innocent as I could. I showed her the picture of a personal computer.

       "Damn," Pam said."The statue and the truck couldn't have just been a coincidence. Try the body part test. Just try and relax and think only about that one body part."

       I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on my pussy. I touched myself with a finger, parting the lips, starting the flow.

       Pam didn't say anything.

       I slowly massaged my clit, imaging that my finger was her finger. I slipped another finger under the folds and pushed in deep. I hoped my excitement didn't show in my face.

       Pam still said nothing.

       I looked through the wall between us, and saw that Pam was shifting in her seat. She was wet, too. I could smell her excitement.

       "Well?" I asked. "What part of my body am I thinking of?"

       Pam finally burst out, not wanting to say it, but she probably couldn't think of any other body part at this point. "Your pus --, uh, your genitals?"

       "What?" I asked, trying to sound upset.

       "Oh, I'm sorry Linda, I don't know why I thought of that."

       "Really, Pam . . ."

       "Try one more picture, please! I know we had some kind of connection."

       "OK," I closed my eyes and imagined that I was kneeling between Pam's legs, sucking on her clit and squeezing her ass. She was twisting my hair in her hands and screaming out Linda, Oh Linda...

       "Linda ..." Pam whispered. She was breathing heavily now, and her face was almost red.

       "Yes, Pam? What was the picture?"

       "A woman licking..." Pam said, then took a breath, "I mean two women having oral sex."

       Denying my own needs, I rushed out of the confessional as if in rage. Pam stumbled out behind me. I thought for a second that she might try to kiss me -- she was so excited. I don't know what I would have done if she had kissed me. But she collected herself and said, "I'm really sorry Linda. I don't know why I said those things."

       "Well, I do," I replied. "And I'm sorry, Pam, but I'm not looking for a lover right now."

       "Maybe you are right," Pam said, looking totally confused. "Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. But please keep me in mind ... when you need a friend."

       "OK," I said, thinking I might just take her up on that offer someday. I turned towards the door. "Bye, Pam."

       "But Linda ... what about the extra credit?"

       I smiled at her, which must have confused her even more, and said, "That's OK. I've decided to go for the full course, instead.." 

 

 ***

 _Oh, that was so MEAN, Linda!_ that voice called a conscience said.

       I smiled. _Fuck that, it was fun! Stop second guessing yourself, girl. The world is yours, if you want it. It's a good day to be Supergirl!._

       Why did I always feel that when I was having fun, I was losing control?

       I looked left and right as I left the Social Science building. A thousand students were walking around, but no one seemed to be watching me. They will be watching soon, I thought, as I removed my wig and put it in my purse.

       People lose control when they always do what society wants, when they always do what someone else wants, when they never do what _they_ want.

       Pam should have done what she wanted.

       I kicked off my shoes. One of them took off like a rocket and landed on the roof of the cafeteria. A man walking nearby stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at me in awe. I smiled, blushing, "Oops!"

       I walked on the lawn along the sidewalk, feeling the grass between my toes. I had never done that before, even though my feet had begged me to for years. Why didn't I just do what I wanted? Who would it have hurt?

       Now many people were watching me. Was it really so strange to see someone walking barefoot? Or maybe they were seeing into my mind, anticipating.

       I slipped out of my jacket and dropped it on the ground, and kept on walking. _Litterbug,_ complained my conscience. _Don't be silly -- it's gonna make a good souvenir for someone._

       My skin tingled from the cool air and the awareness that a thousand eyes were watching me. A thousand imaginations were seeing my thoughts.

       So they weren't surprised when I lifted my shirt over my head. I tossed it high in the air. No one saw it land. They were watching my breasts jiggling back into place, finally free of that tight shirt. They were staring at my nipples, triggering that longing to suck, that everyone is born with, and no one quite completely forgets. I was sorry that I had only two nipples for this multitude.

       My conscience screamed, but the voice just didn't bother me, anymore. Why should I be modest when everyone can see what I'm thinking, anyway? Wherever I go, they are sharing my fantasies, and I never even knew it . . .

       I stopped walking for a moment to push my miniskirt down to my feet, and when I looked up, it was like the whole campus had stopped moving. Some people were laughing, some people were smiling, and some people were cheering.

       I could barely breathe, as I shivered before their stares. My heart leaped whenever I heard the click of a camera. But this was only the beginning.

       Weaving through the traffic jam of students were two cops, but before they could grab me, I floated up, just out of their reach, hovering above them like a very naughty angel.

       I smiled. They didn't look angry, really, they were just doing their jobs. But I could see the hard ons in their pants, and it wasn't just because they had a good view of my wet pussy. They were feeling my excitement. The whole crowd was feeling it. How far did my power reach, anyway? The feeling was so strong, maybe all of Metropolis was feeling it. Was that such a bad thing?

       _OK, Linda, you've had your fun,_ came that voice again. _You've given them all a thrill, now it's time to leave. Just fly away._

 _Oh, no,_ I thought, shaking my head, rebelling. _If you say stop, I say go. Aren't you the same voice that say's if you have something good, share it with everyone?_

       I touched my dripping pussy with my fingertips, and spread the cum over my lips and all over the triangle. My gasp joined a chorus of gasps all around campus. I dropped my purse into the waiting hands of the police, so I could massage my breasts with my other hand.

Cameras clicked. A man right below me had a video camera.

       I turned towards him and closed my eyes. I was terrified and breathless, knowing that I would forever be remembered for this moment, for good or bad. I opened my legs slowly. My swollen pussy gushed like an opened melon, baptizing the man with the video camera.

       The crowd was completely silent. I didn't have the courage to open my eyes and see how they were reacting. I just thought of that camera, and the aching inside. I stroked my clit and floated closer to the camera, until I could almost kiss it with my pussy. _And now_ , I thought, as I opened my pussy lips wide _, Look into my soul! Come inside! I have nothing left to hide! Here is my fountain! Drink from it. Here is my body. . ._

A hand grabbed my leg and pulled me down into the hungry crowd. I didn't open my eyes or put up a struggle. _Oh, take me! Pillage my body! Leave me with nothing but your passion anointing my body, and filling my pussy and mouth until I runneth over._

A hand grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. A voice carried over the cheers and whistles in the crowd, saying, "Linda! Linda, wake up!"

       I opened my eyes.

 ***

       For the second time today, Andrew shattered my dream. I was laying on the couch, and he stood over me in my living room, shaking my shoulders. His eyes were on fire, and he was breathing heavily. I melted into the cushions, sure that he was gonna kiss me or just jump on me. But he just stood there, staring, his light complexion glowing bright red.

       "Why Andy," I finally said with a smile, "I didn't know you cared!"

       He stumbled backwards, and looked disoriented, as if coming out of a hypnotic trance. And then he was Andrew again. "Do your legs always pop open when you sleep?"

       I sat up and adjusted my skirt, which had bunched up to my waist while I slept. "Only when I'm dreaming of you, Andy," I replied.

       He spun around, half smiling, half stern, "Stop calling me that!" And then he paced around the room for a minute, waiting for his pulse to slow and his dick to relax, as he spouted random complaints: "Damn, Linda, you live in one messed up neighborhood. Someone almost drove into me as I parked in your driveway, and a couple is making out across the street in the middle of their front yard as we speak."

       I covered my mouth. _Oh my God, did I do that? Did they see into my dream? Are they living out my fantasy?_ _How about you Andrew? Were you fantasizing about me, too, while you watched me sleeping?_

       "Why are you here, Andrew?" I asked again. "I thought you were gonna call tonight -- not come over."

       Andrew closed the window blind and looked the room quickly over. He spoke with a hushed voice words he wanted to shout, "We've got her!"

       "Selina?" I asked, feeling a little jealous when just the mention of her name excited him, making him forget his feelings for me in a second.

       "We've got her cornered in an old, condemned cinema in Leesburg. We already have her henchmen. I have to admire their loyalty. They could have saved themselves, since Selina was who we were really after, but they stood and fought, giving her a chance to get away -- a chance she squandered."

       "How did you find her, in Leesburg of all places?"

       Andrew looked up as if to the sky. "Blind luck. A Hail Mary play. I watched Selina's video again after I left this morning, and this time I noticed that one of her henchmen removed his mask. I got a good image of his face, which I faxed to the Metropolis and Gotham TV stations, saying he was wanted for serial murders. If you weren't asleep, you would have seen his face on the news."

       "But he never killed anyone!" I objected. I didn't really know that. In fact, I didn't know anything about the man, the cat-man, but I felt a bond, after the intimacies we shared. It was like: anyone who wanted to fuck me couldn't be _all_ bad.

       "Don't worry, Linda," Andrew said, surprised by my outburst. "We arrested him on lesser charges, and since the only evidence we have against him is that video tape (something we will never use!) he'll probably be walking the streets again by tomorrow. But the important thing was that the news report worked. Leesburg is a tight community that notices new faces. Apparently Selina and her friends thought it was a nice, quiet place to hide while the heat was on in Gotham. They dressed up in normal middle-class attire and checked into a Holiday Inn. They were spotted shortly after that."

       "And now you have them in custody," I concluded.

       "Everyone but Selina, who is hiding somewhere in what once was a cinema. We want you to bring her out."

       I laughed. "Why do you need me? You've got her trapped."

       Andrew shook his head. "The building is really huge, with seven screens, and a warehouse and several office buildings in adjacent buildings. We have her trapped, but finding her could take many hours and lots of manpower."

       "Besides," Andrew continued with a sideways glance. "I thought you'd want to be a part of this -- to get even with her for what she did to you last night."

I smiled, "Mmmm, it's like you can read my mind."

 ***

I wished _I_ could read _his_ mind. Why was he giving me this opportunity to meet with Catwoman alone? Was he testing me, to see what I would do? Or did he have some other motivation?

I offered to fly Andrew with me to Leesburg, but he said that he would rather drive. It was only about a 25 minute ride in his Legend, he said. I countered that it was only about a two minute flight. Personally, I thought the idea of flying made him nervous. He was a brave guy, but he was also a control freak.

       Andrew tore out of my driveway as if he wanted to race me to Leesburg, while I took a moment to change into Supergirl. I had to think for a moment, because now I had two costumes, both incomplete. My familiar blue costume was missing the cape. Without the cape, my blue top just didn't look right, because it zipped up in the back. My new costume was missing the shorts. So I had to mix and match, taking the white t-shirt, the red mini, and a pair of sneakers. Then I checked myself in the mirror, striking a few poses. liking what I saw. I never realized how boring wearing the same costume year after year was until I played around with my appearance a bit.

       Maybe next week I'd try something more fashionable -- maybe something with black tights, a black jacket, and this white t-shirt. God, that would look _great_! No blue at all. All black and white, and just that little touch of red on my chest. Maybe shiny red shoes, too. I was getting the hang of this fashion thing!

       But this wasn't the time to think about it. I tore myself from the mirror and barely opened my front door before flying through it. I wanted to have a few moments with Selina before Andrew arrived

       Really, I could get there in under two minutes, but it's very hard to follow the landscape at high speeds, especially at night. Once I was past the bright lights of Metropolis, everything was dark, and I had to follow the highway, or I'd get lost. Leesburg was not an easy city to see from the night sky, and when I found it, I wasn't sure where to even look for the old cinema.

       But that turned out to be very easy, because there were seven cop cars encircling it with flashing blue and white lights.                   I floated down to the main entrance, where maybe ten years ago someone could buy tickets, but today the windows were broken, and conflicting signs said "For Rent" and "Condemned".

       "Hello, Supergirl." the officer in charge greeted me and shook my hand firmly, but he was clearly annoyed. He looked overdressed for such a warm night. "I'm Sergeant Danvers. We wanted to take her out ourselves, and teach the rest of those punks from Gotham to stay in their own damned city, but we were ordered to wait and let you get her."

       I nodded, but I wasn't really paying much attention to what he was saying. The flashlight tucked into his belt caught my eye. It was about eight inches long, and about as thick and smooth as the head of a beer bottle. "It looks very dark inside," I commented casually.

       Danvers nodded, "We don't dare turn on the electricity. This place hasn't been lit up for as long as I've been here, and who knows what shape the wiring is in."

       "Would you mind if I borrowed your flashlight?"

       Danvers handed the light over, but eyed me suspiciously. "I read in the Planet that Superman can see in nearly complete darkness."

       I smiled, "Superman has a few things that I don't have."

       Danvers opened the door like a gentleman, ushering me inside, where it was as black as coal, and the flashlight really did come in handy. I was hoping to locate Selina with my x-ray vision, but it was too dark. I couldn't even make out infrared patterns. There was something strange about these walls. I examined them more closely and saw that all the paint was chipped and old. Lead paint. I walked around for about a minute, flashing the light everywhere, but realizing that it would take hours to find her this way. There were dozens of rooms and hundreds of places to hide.

       Maybe since I couldn't find her with my eyes, I could find her with my other senses. Maybe I could hear her breathing or maybe even hear her heart beating, and then follow the sound to her hiding place. Unfortunately, I was hearing about ten different heartbeats. The cops surrounding the building had hearts and lungs, too. My own heart beat seemed to echo off the walls. No I wasn't gonna find her with my ears.

       That's when I noticed a faint, slightly musky scent in the air, contrasting with the smells of decay. It was Selina's perfume -- the same perfume that made me dizzy last night. God, was that really last night? It seemed longer ago than that, though every second was etched into my memory. The perfume didn't make me dizzy now. It made me hungry.

       I followed the scent into one of the theaters, and then walked aimlessly around, trying to sense where it was coming from. I had never tracked someone this way before, and I figured there must be a trick to it. Just go where the scent is strongest, I thought, but her scent seemed to be just as strong throughout the theater. I aimed the flashlight at all of the seats, down every isle. There was nowhere to hide. There was no balcony, no curtains, no doors. Maybe this was some kind of trick. Maybe Selina sprayed some perfume in the air here.

       That's when I noticed a thin denim jacket draped over a seat in the very center of the theater. I felt a burst of excitement, even though I knew Selina wasn't hiding there. Tucked under the jacket was a skirt and a pair of high heeled shoes. I could smell Selina's perfume in the clothes, but it was faint -- too faint. Selina must have just been here a moment ago, but where could she have gone?

       Why wasn't her scent getting weaker? If anything it seemed even stronger than it was a moment ago. And I felt something different, something that didn't make sense. I felt a slight breeze. When the breeze blew over me, so did Selina's scent.

       Finally I looked up, and I saw a vent in the very center of the ceiling. The vent had no screen. When I aimed the flashlight at it, two eyes glowed back at me, and then they were gone, as footsteps hurried along the roof.

       I put the flashlight in the elastic of my skirt. I flew up through the vent, pushing a fan and a small metal door out of the way. and I stepped out onto the roof. The fan fell back through the vent and landed with loud crash in the theater below.

       The Catwoman was crouching thirty yards away, looking over the edge of the building at several cops below, who were having a coffee and donut break, oblivious to her presence. She glanced about frantically, like a cat trapped in a corner. Then, finally she turned to face me.

       She was dressed just like at the museum. She looked magnificent under the stars and the moonlight. I walked casually towards her. "It's OK, kitty, I have a treat for you."

       "Stay away from me!" she hissed, and to further demonstrate her hostility, she lashed out at me with her whip.

       I caught the whip in my hand, and pulled her towards me as if it was a leash.

       Then she lashed out with her claws, tearing holes in my shirt. "Hey!" I objected, while spinning her around and wrapping her hands behind her back with the whip. I whispered in her ear. "I don't have any more of these shirts. Watch it or I'll have to declaw you."

       Now, we were standing at the edge of the roof where the cops only had to look away from their donuts for a second, and they would see us. I had Selina in a wrestling hold, with one hand gently squeezing her breast, the other on her thigh. Her mask felt like satin against my cheek.

       "What do you want?" she whispered back, not wanting to draw the attention of the police.

       I loosened my grip and let my hands wander over her sheer purple outer skin. When my fingers neared her pussy, she fought with me, turning around, pushing me between herself and the ledge. Now our breasts touched each other, and I looked up into her eyes. My memories of last night paralyzed me for a moment. I felt my knees going weak, and her scent eating away at my strength. Selina repeated, now more confident, "I said, 'What do you want with me?'"

       _No, Selina, I'm in charge tonight!_ I squeezed her ass and kissed her hard, touching her tongue with mine. She was startled, and she took a step backwards. "I just want to return the favor you gave me last night."

       Selina struggled hopelessly to escape my grasp. She only succeeded in slipping on the gravel covered roof, and she fell flat on her back, with me on top of her. In this position, she couldn't even struggle against my will.

       "No," she warned, as I reached up to her mask and lifted it over her head. She looked away, not wanting me to see her face.

       "Why don't you want me to see you?" I whispered. "Remember? I saw you before, on the train. Why do you wear a mask? I think you are beautiful."

       She sneered at me and said. "We all wear masks --" she started

       But I swallowed the rest of her reply with another kiss. Her leg brushed against my thigh, and I could smell her excitement growing. "Mmm, that was nice," she purred with a naughty smile. "I'd like to hold you in my arms, if you'd just untie my arms."

       I shook my head, and slowly tore at her costume with my fingernails.

       "Why not?" She demanded. Her voice was almost panicky as I slowly climbed down her body. "I thought you wanted to please me."

       "I do." I said, smiling back up at her, and then I wrapped my lips around her bare nipple, tickling it with my tongue. Selina squirmed and gasped. "But make no mistake, this is revenge."

       I climbed further down, tearing her costume in the middle as I moved, and licking her skin as soon as it was exposed.

       "This isn't what you want," Selina tried to reason with me. "You want some more of what I gave you last night, right? Let me loose, and you won't regret it."

       "Open up, and shut up!" I said, as I pushed her legs apart. I kissed her inner thighs, as my hands reached up to squeeze her breasts. Her pussy was wet, and her tights were stained by excitement. I was about to tear the fabric away, but I liked the silky feeling against my cheek. "This is what I want. I wanted to do this ever since I met you on the train."

       "No!" she cried out loudly enough to be heard by the police below, when I licked the length of her pussy. The stain spread out across the fabric.

       "Be a good little kitty," I whispered, before I wrapped my lips over her clit. Her hips involuntarily rose to give me better access.

       "No," she cried out again, "you don't understand. You can't make me come."

       "Come kitty," I demanded, as I tickled her clit with my tongue, stroking it in tiny circles at a speed that even a vibrator couldn't match. "Here, kitty, kitty."

       Selina shivered and screamed and gushed so that her tights couldn't absorb her juices any more. I bit a tiny hole in the fabric, letting her excitement escape.

       "No," she cried out again, "you really don't understand. I can't come at all."

       I climbed up her body again, so I could see her eyes when she came. I wanted to swallow her screams.        "We'll see about that," I said, as I broke through the fabric with the flashlight, parting her pussy lips. The invasion took her by surprise. I pushed it in until she moaned.

       "You can't . . .oh!" she cried, when I pushed the flashlight deeper. I pushed in until her pussy couldn't take any more. I pushed it in and out, faster and faster. _Give in,_ trying to will her into submission. I kissed her hard, trying to suck out her resistance. I expected for her to stop saying no at any moment, and to scream out instead at the top of her lungs: "YES!"

       Instead, she shook her mouth free from my kiss. "STOP IT!" she cried out, surprising me with the desperation in her voice. "PLEASE!"

       And I did. In an instant, the emotion was completely shot.

       I could see anguish and need in her eyes. She looked like I must have looked last night, on the edge of coming, but not there. Why did she beg me to stop?

       "So now you know, Supergirl," she confessed with shame and tears in her eyes. "I can't come. I've never been able to have an orgasm. I've tried with many lovers, but no one could make me come. There is nothing more frustrating! It is frustrating to my lovers as well, and that's why I have none."

       I looked away, feeling very bad. I never wanted to hurt her like this. I only wanted to give her the same wonderful, humiliating, overwhelming, devastating, mind-shattering orgasm she gave me last night. "I'm sorry Selina, I had no idea."

       "Andrew never told you?" She said. "What the hell did he tell you? That damned egotistic sonofabitch never could face the truth."

       "Quiet!" a voice said from the darkness, and Andrew stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

       Selina sneered at him, "You never could accept it!" And then she whispered to me, ignoring him, "Haven't you ever wondered why he is so mad at me? It's not because of something I did. He knew who I was when he got involved with me. No, it's because of something I didn't do, something I couldn't do..."

       "Shut up!" Andrew commanded.

       "Something _he_ couldn't do for me!" Selina yelled back.

       Andrew looked at the ground. "I tried my best. I would have done anything for you, but you just gave up."

       "So you sent Supergirl after me? Why?" She said to Andrew. I felt as though they were talking through me -- as though I wasn't even there.

       Andrew shrugged. "At first I only wanted for her to bring you back to me. But after last night . . .I thought if anyone could please you, she could."

       "Well, congratulations, to both of you," Selina said bitterly. "All either of you have succeeded in doing is torturing me, giving me a need that no one can satisfy."

       Andrew and I looked at each other. I felt a little angry at him, too, for using me yet again, but mostly I shared his anguish. Like him, despite all of my powers, I couldn't give Selina a pleasure that I've always taken for granted. A pleasure that always came so easy for me. A feeling . . .

       "I, uh, think I know how to give Selina what she needs," I said,. "I have a special power that might help."

       Andrew and Selina stared at me as if I had three eyes.

       Andrew finally asked, "What power might that be?"

       "Let's just say that I think I can share my orgasm with you."

       "Well," Selina said, "The way I feel right now, I'd be willing to try almost anything. But do I have to have my fucking hands tied?"

       I helped her up, and untied her hands. "I think we will need Andrew's help to make this work."

       Andrew raised his hands defensively and laughed, "Oh, now wait a minute . . ."

       "Common, Andy," Selina teased, "Aren't you just a little bit interested in doing it with two women."

       "Yeah, Andy," I pushed him further. "That gun in your pocket is growing as we speak."

       "Don't call me 'Andy'!" He said, pointing a finger, but the idea did interest him. "What do you want me to do."

       "Well, first thing," I said, while lifting my shirt over my head, "you need to get as naked as we are. And then you need to make love to both of us at the same time. When I come, she will come."

       "But how?" He said, while unbuttoning his shirt. "I only have one dick."

       "Try this," I said, handing him the flashlight, before I stepped out of my skirt. His eyes locked on my shaved pussy, and I wish he could have seen the smile that brought to my face. I encouraged his naughty thoughts with a quick kiss. "Don't worry about how; I have faith in you. You have other resources besides your dick."

       Selina grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, "This had better work."

       I urged her to lie down with me, on our sides, facing each other, and our legs spread halfway, one leg in the air. "Keep looking at my eyes, don't look at Andrew," I said, as I gently caressed her face.

       Andrew went to work immediately -- apparently he wanted the job more than he let on. He pushed the flashlight into Selina's pussy, while he chose to eat mine. Our eyes lit up together, and I knew Selina was feeling the wonderful feeling that burst through me when Andrew sucked on my pussy lips. Was this feeling new to her? Could she feel my pussy swelling up with juices? Was her body tingling all over? Yes, I could see it in her eyes.

       We caressed each other's breasts, while Andrew got more aggressive. I didn't see what he was doing to Selina, but what he was doing to me was wonderful! He grabbed my ass with one hand and plunged his face deep into my hole. My leg shivered, as I struggled to keep it from trapping him inside.

       Selina and I were breathing together. Our eyes were glistening. Even our hearts were beating as one. Oh, God, Andrew, just a little longer. Don't get tired now!

       Then Andrew found my clit, and he sucked on it hard! He licked it fast and furiously.

       Selina and I pawed at other, and we cried out Andrew's name. Our breathing was irregular, and we felt a growing, overwhelming ache inside. This was where lovemaking had always ended for Selina before tonight -- with a deep and agonizing emptiness, needed to be filled.

       I saw the fear in her eyes, as she worried that suddenly it would end here, leaving her desperate for fulfillment. I touched her face and smiled, thinking of how much this must have meant to her. I thought of how much good I could bring into her life.

       Andrew pushed two fingers deep within me, pushing us over the edge. Tears ran down our eyes, as a loud humm seemed to shake the roof. And then, slowly, we came back to reality, and found ourselves looking into each other's eyes. Our faces were glowing, and we were both smiling widely. I doubt anyone had ever seen Selina smile so beautifully before. I wanted to get closer to her, to see what was behind her eyes . . .

       . . . and that's when I knew that this was just the beginning of a bigger relationship.

       We kissed very gently, very lovingly. This was a very special moment for her, and somehow that made it special for me, too.

       "Hey," came a voice as if from afar. "What about me?"

       Selina and I grinned mischievously at each other. We were thinking the same thing. "Oh, yeah, we forgot about you Andrew. Thanks." Selina said, then giggled.

       "No," Andrew said, "I mean, isn't anyone gonna get me off?"

       I looked at Selina, she looked at me, and we both shook our heads.

       "I think I'll let you see what it feels like for a while," Selina said.

       "Tell you what," I added. "If you bring our clothes back to my place, we may be able to work something out. Next time we want multiple orgasms."

       And with that, I grabbed Selina and whisked her off into the air, away from the police, and away from Andrew who was screaming bloody-murder after us.

 


	6. Blood Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > A predator arrives in town, and he follows Linda's scent. (Note: This chapter is written from the predator's point of view, so don't get confused.)
>> 
>> _Baby, when you start to bleed_  
>  _You look so sweet!_  
>  -Sheryl Crow  
>   
> 
> 
> .  
> 

 

 

 

I really hated moving to a new city, even when everything was going just right -- and things were. I found the perfect job right away, and I found a good place to stay. What I hate about moving are all the fucking details.

Details like dragging the carcass of a black panther down the streets of Metropolis at 2 in the morning without being seen.

Capturing the animal from the Riverside Zoo was surprisingly easy. The Zoo's security was lax. Perhaps the management never expected that someone might want to steal one of their animals. Certainly, they could not have anticipated the use I had for this panther.

I dragged the animal about 300 yards, across a major highway, to a wall overlooking the river. I fastened it's tail securely to a large rock and pushed the dead monster into a pocket of slow moving current. The water was about thirty feet deep, and after a few seconds, the large black body seemed to dissolve into it, gone for good.

Gone except for a handful of black fur that I saved in a plastic sandwich bag.

One last detail. I had to make it look like the panther was not stolen but had escaped. No problem. A truck driver, tired and a little tipsy so late at night, drives off the road, flips end over end down a hill, and crashes into the panther's cage. The driver assumed killed by the crash.

 

***

 

I didn't want to seem nervous, so I waited a few hours, and then, during my break time at work, I sat down at one of the tables and picked up this morning's Daily Planet, and started reading:

 

> _THE PANTHER STRIKES AGAIN!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Police have confirmed that Sarah Riddel of South Metropolis was killed Tuesday at 12:40 am by a panther, which had escaped from Riverside Zoo three nights before, and which had killed Kristine Raja that same night._
> 
> _Police are consulting with Zoo personnel and wildlife experts in an effort to trap the animal, but so far are baffled by the animal's behavior._

 

And that was all the paper said about last night's killing. It didn't mention how the body was mutilated and disemboweled, or how the rain seemingly washed away Sarah's blood. It didn't note the black panther hairs in Sarah's hand, or the strangely calm expression on her face. I crumpled the paper and cursed in disappointment.

"I feel the same way . . . Jim, right? It's really a shame. Very pretty girl." sighed Lieutenant O'Neil as he sat down beside me, shaking his head.

"You knew her?" I asked, surprised and fascinated. It was a bad idea to appear too curious about my victims. The less I knew, the better, yet I needed to know, anyway. Sarah and I had shared an intimate moment, and she had sacrificed her life and her blood for me. That sacrifice meant nothing if I didn't know what she had given up.

But more importantly, I had messed up big last night. I had broken two cardinal rules: Never hunt in desperation or with a pattern. O'Neil was an officer investigating the killings, and I wanted to know what he knew.

O'Neil shook his head. "Never met her, but I was on the scene last night , shortly after she died. Horrible sight. Dogs got at the corpse after the panther did, so determining the cause of death was a bitch, especially with the TV vultures poking their mikes in our faces, and with the newspapers desperately fishing for something to print in the morning edition."

I rolled my eyes and shivered, "And here I thought I was moving into a safe neighborhood, where crime and murder were just things in its past."

O'Neil stared at me quizzically, and I knew immediately I had made a mistake. He said: "Well, technically, Jim, these aren't murders, but I know what you mean. Killing is killing, whether it's an animal or a man, but there is one big difference."

"What's that?" I asked, looking beyond him to the woman who was approaching our table.

"When we catch the monster, we won't be reading him his fucking rights We won't be tripping on our own feet, worrying about it's procedure. . We won't be taking it alive, so some hot shot attorney can turn the killer into a victim. Not this time." O'Neil pointed a finger at me and said cold as ice: "We find him, we kill him, just the way it oughta be."

"Amen," I replied, trying to rush the conversation to a conclusion. As interested as I was in the details of the O'Neil's investigation, I was even more interested in what the woman now standing over him had to say . . .

 ***

I couldn't believe my luck when I got this job as a bouncer for a strip bar called the Kindling Klub, on Washington Crossing.

Two years ago, the place was called the Naked Passion, which was notorious for the fights that would break out weekly. Then a police station moved across the street, beginning a crack-down on crime in the area. Shortly thereafter, Supergirl claimed Washington Crossing as her main area of operations. Property values skyrocketed, and the crime rate plummeted

The Naked Passion had to change with the times, so they adopted a more tasteful name, and prettied up their exterior. Once they catered to blue collar workers, but today their customers were executives and even cops, who would check in as soon as they punched out at the station. In facts, cops became such a large part of their business that they opened a donut shop in the same building.

Despite the heavy police presence, the Kindling Klub still needed bouncers, mainly because even cops can get rowdy when they drink, and they may have the crazy urge to frisk one of the dancers. Bouncers have to treat cops differently than other unrulies, though. Cops carry guns, and they stick up for each other. They aren't easily intimidated. So the club hired bouncers based on their social skills rather than their muscle mass. The best way to keep the peace in this environment was to make friends with the ranking officers, so they might help you when one of street cops gets out of line.

But, more importantly, these casual friendships with high ranking police officers also let me in on confidential information about on-going police investigations, including the "panther attacks." I knew that maybe one day, a swimmer would discover the carcass of the panther. Maybe one day the cops would find one of my fingerprints at the scene, or would be suspicious at the lack of blood in the victim's body. When that happened, I'd be the first to know.

But keeping tabs on the cops was just a bonus. Watching the strippers was why I took the job in the first place. Actually, just one stripper in particular.

 ***

For decades now, vampires like me have been thriving in the underground world of Gotham City and my hometown of Bludhaven. We fit right in with all the twisted lifestyles, and murder was so common in those parts that no one noticed or cared about cause of death. Feeding was so easy that one night, when I was starving for a blood fix, and I didn't give a fuck what people thought, I just grabbed a woman on a crowded street, charmed her with a cold stare, had my fill of her. I laid her body out on the side of the street in front of hundreds of potential witnesses. Citizens from high and low walked on by, seeing only the path ahead of them. One child stopped to stare, before he was swept up by his mother and whisked away.

Perhaps because of such willful ignorance, the vampire population was growing too fast in Bludhaven and Gotham. Recently the police started taking the "vampire cult" murders seriously. Soon they will realize that we aren't a cult at all but a species of predators. Something was gonna give soon. Something was gonna wake the cities from their slumber and unite them against their common enemy. A war against the vampires was imminent. I figured I'd better get out sooner than later.

Every vampire licked their fangs when they thought of Metropolis, with more fresh bodies than Gotham and Bludhaven combined, yet with no competition from any other vampires. There was a reason for this. Law and order ruled in Metropolis, and we couldn't live the lifestyle we were used to, there. We had to be careful and calculating, because just one suspicious looking killing would send the public into a panic. The cops would be posted on every corner.

But the cops were merely a nuisance. We could handle them. We could take their bullets, and we could toss them like rag dolls. Ten cops were no match for one vampire.

What we couldn't handle were those damned Kryptonians.

 ***

 

She called herself Linda Lee. I asked her the first day if it was her real name. Strippers often used stage names, and Linda Lee had that ring to it. The name rolled off the tongue. It sounded sweet, like "candy". It sounded musical, like part of a rhyme. It sounded innocent, like she didn't even understand the concept of evil or pain.

She smiled mischievously and nodded, like a child playing a pretend game, not really lying but totally possessed by her role. There was something about her I didn't understand. Just being near her made my skin tingle, like tiny bursts of sunlight on my skin. That's when I first got the idea. That's when I first knew that, no matter how unwise, I had to have her.

Of course, I knew who she really was. I suspected, anyway. That's why I got this job in the first place. My last victim in Bludhaven spilled the beans to me, trying to bargain for his life. He claimed to be a friend of the Catwoman, and that he had inside information on Supergirl. I figured he was just feeding me a story to save himself, but his story checked out.

Still, I wanted to make sure before I committed too much effort into my plan. I found the idea that Supergirl was secretly a stripper after-hours suspicious; it didn't fit the usual superhero profile. Even more suspicious was that Linda Lee had a reputation for putting on extreme shows, calling attention to herself. So before accepting the job offered to me at the Kindling Klub, I stopped by to check this girl-of-steel out. I wanted to know her very well.

"Really? Your real name?" I asked her, not accepting her answer. "I'm thinking it's really Linda Jones or Linda Zaleski, but not Linda Lee. It's such a beautiful name, it has to be fake."

We were both sitting at the bar, and Linda was waiting to be called onto the stage. She was barely dressed in her work clothes (matching red g-string and bra). She was politely trying to avoid talking with me, as she sipped on a diet cola. I was probably the 100th person to hit on her this week, and the 99th to try that line about her name. But I must have put a different spin on it, or maybe she just liked the sound of my voice, or maybe she was just naturally friendly.

She blushed and turned slightly towards me, almost yelling to be heard over the music playing in the background. "You really like it? I always thought my name was kind of childish."

"Oh, definitely not!" I replied, involuntarily glancing down at her breasts before meeting her eyes. "Linda Lee. I think it's a delicious name."

"Delicious?" she laughed. "How can a name be delicious."

"When I say your name," I replied, inching nearer to her, "my mouth starts to water."

Linda's smile dropped slightly, as she looked into my eyes. We sat completely still for several seconds, when she forced herself to look away. The air around her seemed to warm up, and as her whole body flushed with blood.

"See?" I said, licking my lips and smiling a toothy grin. "Just thinking of your name makes me hungry."

"OK, Mr. Hungry Man," Linda said, trying to break the mood slightly by playing along. "What are you hungry for? What kind of food would I have to be to satisfy you."

I stared at her deeply and considered my reply. Linda still smiled playfully, but I know there was one food in particular she had in mind, one thing I could say to replace her humor with passion. "A peach. Something wet and soft with red in the middle."

Linda shifted on her seat and she could barely look at me when she asked, "How wet?"

"When I bite into you, I want to feel your juices dripping down my cheeks."

Linda sipped on her drink, but all that was left was ice. The song playing over the loudspeakers was almost over. Linda put her drink down on the table, and stared in my eyes. She touched my knee lightly with her hand. "When?"

Now it was my turn to feel uncomfortable. But I smiled and said, "Well, I feel pretty hungry right now."

My voice was a little too loud, now that the song was over.

The DJ broke the silence, saying, "Up next, on center stage, the Kindling Klub's own little superstar, Linda Lee, will light your fire!"

Then the music started again -- a rather playful song, by Sheryl Crow I think. I could tell by Linda's smile that it was a song she hand picked.

"Have you ever seen me dance?" She asked.

I shook my head.

She looked disappointed. "Common," She said, almost dragging me off my seat in her excitement.

She led me to a bouncer and whispered something in his ear. He flashed a strange look in my direction, and for a second, I thought she was turning on me and having me thrown out of the club.

But while Linda was preparing herself to climb onto center stage, the bouncer led me around the stage to the far corner. The bench seats were full, but he got everyone to move down and make room for me. "Lucky bastard," he muttered, as he walked away. I wondered what he meant, because I didn't have a very good view from here.

While I had heard rumors that Linda Lee put on extreme shows, I wasn't expecting much out of the ordinary. How extreme could she be?

Most women take their time stripping, starting with three or four items of clothing, tossing one every couple of minutes until they are naked. Then they will give everyone a nice view of their pussy and present their gartered leg for a gratuity. They never show much real excitement.

As I waited anxiously for Linda to begin her dance, I listened to the song she chose. It sounded very dangerous and exciting:

Linda entered the stage with only her g-string and her tiny bra, which was merely a souvenir in the audience before she shined her first smile. I barely had time to admire her perfect tits when she literally tore off her g-string, flashing a glimpse of her hairless pussy, an image that lingered in my mind.

Then she leaped into dance, moving so fast she was almost a blur, except for brief moments when she seemed to pause in mid-air, a fleeting image of raw, erotic beauty, and then a blur again. She danced like that for several minutes, her feet never seeming to touch the ground, until she gracefully came in for a landing far away from me, on the other side of the stage.

Someone seemed to have caught her eye. A man she picked out of the crowd. She slow danced towards him. But then another man caught her eye, and she changed direction. Now she was crawling along the edge of the stage on hands and knees from one man to another, looking them over, one by one. Never did she look ahead to where I was sitting. If she kept crawling along the edge, I'd be the last man she'd meet. But somehow I knew that she was thinking about me.

Now she was halfway around, and she was getting more and more flirtatious. She touched one man's cheek. She touched another man's leg. She was crawling so near to the edge that several times it looked as though she'd fall over into the lap of some lucky man. It was all part of her act.

But her passion wasn't an act at all. Her face was red with heat. Her eyes were determined, almost predatory. When she was still three men away, she finally looked ahead at me and didn't pause in her approach.

She leaned over the edge to kiss me, and I stretched forward to accept my gift. But she turned away suddenly, purposefully brushing her body against my outstretched lips as she passed, filling the air with her aroma, and then pausing when her ass was literally touching my cheek, and her pussy only inches away.

She was in dire need of attention. Her pussy was so swollen and drenched in her own juices, it seemed unreal. Trails ran down her thighs, and reached to the stage itself. Was everyone so mesmerized by her aura and scent that they couldn't see that she was no ordinary girl?

I was no more wise. I froze, unable to move, burning from the heat and entranced by the view,. . .

Which somehow got even better when Linda raised her leg high in the air, stretching her pussy lips slightly, and starting a new flow of nectar.

"You asked for something wet and soft and red in the middle," she prompted, resting her leg on my shoulder. "If you are still hungry ... "

. .. she rolled over and put her other leg on my other shoulder. . .

". . . then come and get it."

Her eyes were half open, almost pleading with me, while she squeezed her breasts with her hands, leaving her pussy for me to do with as I willed.

Part of me held back, wondering what the audience was thinking, or what the consequences might be with the club's management. But I knew I'd never get another invitation like this.

And I may never want a woman again as much as I wanted Linda right then.

I stroked Linda's legs with my hands as I pretended to be uncertain, then I kissed her knees and her thighs, never taking my eyes off of her pussy.

Linda moaned, tortured by my light, peripheral kisses and teasing glances. She edged her pussy even closer.

I kissed her inner thighs, as my hair fell on her pussy, tickling it like a feather. I grabbed her ass tightly with both hands.

"Hey!" she finally complained, "You said you were . . . OH!"

I pushed her forward, as I dove into her pussy. I thought she came right then when the gush of her juices filled my mouth and splattered on my cheeks.

I almost came myself just from tasting her. If I had any doubts that Linda was Supergirl, they ended right there. How could any other woman could taste that good? Or smell that good? Or need to be fucked so bad?

I don't know how long I was up there on the stage, between her legs, devouring her. I could have drank her forever, but even Supergirl herself had her limits. When her juices stopped flowing, I craved her all the more. I sucked on her pussy walls and her clit, and fucked her with my fingers, until her whole body shook and her chest heaved as she screamed.

Then her firm ass softened in my hands. Her skin seemed to change texture slightly. She was lying still, totally satisfied . . . and weak.

It was then that I noticed: My dick was hard as a rock. Something that should never happen to me. My whole body was tingling.

I felt a new hunger building inside me.

I climbed up her body, kissing her along the way. I paused at her breasts to suck on her nipples. They were very soft and sensitive.

I sucked hard just below her nipple, and saw the rush of blood to the injured area.

My heart raced, and my desire for her turned into a kind of dark lust. Her weakness raised a feral hunger in me. As her strength faded, my strength grew, and my muscles tensed. My teeth were growing . . .

. . .as was the terror of what I might do.

I rolled off of Linda and lay flat on my back.

Linda rolled on top of me and smiled sweetly. "Thank you," she said. "That was really wonderful."

I refused to meet her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep thinking about my own pleasure. Here, let me return the favor," she whispered in my ear, exposing her neck, as her hand stroked my chest, en route to my pants.

I composed myself and slid out from under Linda, never meeting her eyes. "Thanks, but I'm sorry but I have to go now. _Right_ now."

 

 ***

I let an hour pass, just hiding in the shadows. I couldn't wait any longer.

I crossed paths with Sarah Riddel on empty streets of Metropolis at about three in the morning. It was drizzling and cold, and she was huddled tight in her wet jacket. She kept a wary eye on me as we neared each other.

"What's a pretty young lady doing, walking the streets all alone?" I asked.

She relaxed a bit. Maybe she liked the sound of my voice, and she was eager for a reason to relax. Maybe she saw my spiffy new bouncer uniform, and thought I was an officer of the law.

In any case, she made a mistake.

When I first smelled her aroma, it was like the smell of food to a starving man. Or a starving animal. She could see my hunger, but she couldn't run. She was lost in my eyes. Death is painless for a vampire's prey. She simply succumbed to my will and gave up the essence of her life.

For a moment, the taste of her blood on my tongue and the rush of her blood through my veins was all I could feel. It was like her soul was filling my body. I drank until here wasn't enough blood left in her to stain my new uniform.

Now she lay limp on the sidewalk, and I hesitated.

I tore into her skin with my fingernails -- nails that were sharp as a panther's claws. What little blood there was left in her spilled out onto the street, quickly spreading into the puddle of water on which she lied. I cringed, not liking what I was doing. I never had a problem with the taking of my prey; it was something I needed to do. But it was common decency for a vampire to leave the prey's body intact -- at least allowing her some dignity in her death, since, after all, she gave up her life for me. But panthers had no such morals, and so I must not either.

 ***

 "Amen," I said to O'Neil, about 15 hours later.

Linda stood behind him. She was dressed in a lustrous blue silk blouse with a matching skirt, which fell like waves on the ocean over her body, hiding much of her figure, but accentuating the smooth contour of her hips, and making her erect nipples impossible to ignore.

She put a hand on O'Neil's shoulder. When he turned to face her, his face lit up. He had a hard-on for Linda, and just being near her for a few moments was enough to make his day. "Oh, hi there, my little Honey Dew!" he said, with his eyes drifting south to her breasts.

She smiled. "You guys talking about that panther attack again?"

"Yeah, its a terrible thing," O'Neil said, shaking his head, "but don't you worry, we'll catch that monster, and you can feel safe again real soon."

"I'm sure you will," Linda replied, then glanced at me. "Will you excuse me officer, but I'd like to talk with Jim for a moment."

O'Neil promptly gave up his seat to her, but flashed a look at me when Linda wasn't looking, as if to say, "lucky fucking bastard." I smiled and waved goodbye to him.

Now it was just Linda and me sitting alone at the large table. She took a sip on her cola, then just stared at me, saying nothing. She tried smiling, to show me she wasn't angry, but she did want an explanation for my rude exit from the stage last night.

I tried to think about what to say. Maybe it was best to tell her off, to tell her that last night was a big mistake. "I'm sorry, Linda, something just came over me last night. I didn't mean to make a scene. Something just . . . wasn't right."

She took my hand in hers. "That's OK. I understand. It was all a big mistake."

"Mistake?--" I asked. The word stung when I was on the receiving end. "How can you call it a mistake."

"Oh, no!" she rushed to correct herself. "I mean, I don't regret it at all. Thank you so much. No one has every made me come so hard on stage before. You have a wonderful tongue."

I smiled, feeling about as embarrassed as a school boy who just got kissed for the first time. Embarrassed and surprised.

What the hell was happening to me? Vampires weren't supposed to feel this way. Was she using one of her super-powers on me? Or did I just underestimate her all too human powers?

Linda continued with regret, "I just wish that I could have done the same for you, but now it's too late."

"What do you mean?"

"I just found out a few minutes ago that you were working here. I never would have been so intimate with you if I had known we'd be working together. So we can't . . ." she began, taking a deep breath, " we can't do . . . you know . . . anymore."

"Is that what the boss said?" I asked.

"No, it's not that. I just don't think it's a very good idea," she said, while stirring her drink with the straw, then glancing up briefly to see my reaction. "It can get complicated. With strangers, it's different. They don't have any expectations, and they just leave the bar with nice memories."

"I don't have any expectations," I said flatly.

"I'm glad," she said, not looking glad at all, then sipping again on her cola.

That's when I realized that Linda wasn't being totally honest, maybe not even with herself. She was not the kind of woman who avoided complications or emotional connections. If anything, she sought them out. I decided to remind her of that.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Linda hesitated, then smiled, "Only if you don't mind when I don't answer it."

"Why do you work here? I know they don't pay you enough to do what you did with me last night."

Linda nodded. "They don't pay me _anything_ for that. In fact, it gets deducted from my pay, so that I can't be accused of selling sex."

"Exactly. So why do it?"

Linda smiled and shrugged. "It's good advertising. Men follow me around, hoping they'll be chosen next."

I glared at her suspiciously. "Nope, don't buy it. It's too extreme to be just a gimmick. Besides, you get off on it way too much."

"OK, if you must know, it really turns me on!" Linda confessed, smiling, but refusing to meet my eyes. Then she opened up completely. "I guess you could call me a nymphomaniac."

"Did you ever hear the one about the blonde nympho …."

"Shut up!" Linda hit my shoulder gently with her fist, then continued. "I'm serious. This job is a kind of therapy for me."

"Really?" I asked, amazed. "A doctor recommended you do this?"

"No, my counselor told me to try celibacy," Linda laughed as if it was a joke. "She said that I was just looking for approval and love. Maybe she was right about that, but it's not the whole story. You see . . . well, I don't want to get into the details, but I'm different from other women sexually. My body goes crazy sometimes, and I just can't get sex out of my mind. I've tried to control myself, but I can't, and I made a lot of mistakes trying. It doesn't matter what I'm thinking or how I'm feeling -- somehow something will turn me on. Whenever I had sex, it wasn't enough, and when I masturbated, I felt depressed and lonely. I guess I just always believed that sex should be shared. I always thought that sex and making love were the same thing. And I know it's silly, but I feel like I'm making love when I'm up there, on the stage. I feel like I'm being loved, with all those men gazing longingly at me when I come."

"People say that you come during every show," I commented, amazed.

"Almost, six or seven shows every night," Linda smiled wickedly. "I told you I was a nympho. But I don't ask men up on the stage very often. Not every day, anyway -- only when they really turn me on, when they make my pussy ache…"

"So I make your pussy ache, huh?"

Linda shifted in her seat, barely hiding a smile. "You did last night."

"But not now?"

She hesitated. "No, not now."

"Really?" I asked, reaching under the table, stroking her with my open hand from her hip to her knee, then sliding back up on the inside of her leg. Her skin was like fire.

"Stop it," she whispered, but then she licked her lips. She closed her eyes, sliding her ass forward on the bench seat, and opening her legs slightly.

I fondled her thigh through her silk skirt, stroking in tiny circles, while inching the hem towards her hips, bunching up her skirt in between, like whitecaps falling over each other, where the ocean met the shore, and then turning to steam on the hot beach.

Linda moaned and leaned into me, when my hand finally dipped into her Bermuda Triangle.

She was as wet now as I remembered her from last night, and her juices nearly exploded forth at my touch.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Linda argued, as she rested her head on my shoulder.

I kissed and nuzzled her hair, which smelled almost as exciting as her perfume. That's when I saw the touch of fresh blonde hairs mixed with the brunette. I had thought she was wearing a wig, but apparently she had dyed her hair brown. I don't know why, but that turned me on even more.

"Maybe that's why you like it so much _because_ we shouldn't be doing it, " I said, blowing in her ear, and sliding a finger inside her.

"I'm getting too wet," Linda complained. "It's gonna stain my skirt."

"Well, we can't have that. Let me see what I can do," I said, sliding down under the table.

"Wait!" Linda said, moving as if to rise from her seat, but she stopped. She was so wet now, a trail of her juices would run down her leg if she stood. Instead she lifted her skirt, to protect it, bunching it behind her back. Her juices now ran down onto the hard wood seat.

I bumped my head against the table, as I crawled between her legs. I began by kissing her thighs, teasing her like I had last night, but Linda would have none of that. She grabbed my head and pulled me straight into her pussy. I couldn't resist if I had wanted to. I licked all around her bare triangle, but that was like licking the cream off a melting ice-cream cone -- I would never keep up. I had to go to the source. When I slid my tongue into her pussy, she squirted, like when eating a grapefruit with a spoon. Linda tried to put her legs on my shoulders, but there just wasn't enough room under the table.

I reached up her blouse with one hand, gently squeezing her breast, but Linda suddenly pushed my hand down. I tried to speak, but she silenced me by pushing my face deep into her pussy.

"Hi!" she said, loud enough to cover my muffled objections.

"So . . ." said an unfamiliar voice, as a woman sat down on the other side of the table.

"What happened?" said a second, huskier voice, as another woman sat beside her. Her knee bumped into my elbow, but she quickly repositioned her legs, not suspecting a thing.

I kneeled perfectly still, with my face covered in Linda's honey, and my hand squeezing her ass.

Linda's voice was shaky. "I told him just what you said I should tell him."

"And . . .?" asked the first woman.

"How did he respond?" demanded the husky voice.

Linda replied. "He said that he had no expectations."

Linda squirmed slightly, when I tickled her pussy lips with my tongue.

"That's all?" asked the husky voice. "Do you think he got the message? It's bad enough that you fuck the customers, stealing them all for yourself, but we can't have the help buzzing around you like flies, too, ignoring their jobs."

"I think he got the message," Linda said, maintaining remarkable self-control as I pushed two fingers deep inside her, and I blew softly on her clit.

The other woman spoke up, speaking more softly. "We're sorry to give you the third degree, Linda. It's just that these horny creeps aren't much use to us when all they can think of is sucking that hyper cunt of yours."

"I know what you mean," Linda could barely say. Then suddenly she giggled and cried out, when I pulled her ass under the table, sucking hard on her pussy lips, and thrusting a slippery finger up her asshole. Her muscles squeezed so tight around my finger, I thought it was broken for a moment.

Suddenly there was a lot of commotion above, as the two strippers finally understood what was going on under their noses.

"Oh, great, Linda," said one.

"You're so fucking hopeless," said the other.

And then they were gone, leaving a trail of curses and stomping feet behind them.

I pulled Linda the rest of the way under the table. Her head hit the seat hard on the way down, but it didn't knock the mischievous smile from her mouth.

She reached for my belt, and undid the buckle, but I kissed her hard on the lips before she could grab the zipper. She put her arms around my waist and kissed me back, probing my mouth with her tongue, taking my breath away.

And before I knew it, she was suddenly on top of me, her breasts spilling out from the blouse, her pussy spreading it's juice on my leg, as she climbed down my body, just one thought on her mind. She smiled up at me, as she reached into my pants, pulling out my rock hard dick . . .

. . . releasing the monster within me. I could control the monster's hunger for blood, but I couldn't control it's hunger for Linda. I didn't know what the monster might do.

I struggled to free myself, but she had my legs pinned. She lowered her mouth to my dick. I tried to push her off, but I don't think she even noticed. She didn't budge. I was never in this position before, the weaker party, so I panicked. I flailed at her head, until at last she pulled away. As soon as I was free, I crawled out from under the table and hurried to the men's room.

For the second time in as many days, I left Linda alone, confused and frustrated. But at least she was alive.

 ***

And at least Linda could do something about her frustration. She didn't waste any time worrying about what happened or adjusting her clothes or regaining her composure. She climbed up on one of the side stages, in one of the secluded corners of the club, and she started performing.

The boss, who always had his third eye on her, fetched me out of the restroom. "Linda's in one of those moods again," he said, shaking his head. "You'd better keep a close eye on that bitch. She's always flirting with disaster."

Tina, the woman on center stage, looked genuinely pissed as half her audience and one spotlight migrated across the club for Linda's impromptu performance.

I followed, too, and stood at the end of the stage, watching Linda. She glanced at me, but then she looked away. She stared off into space, as she satisfied her own pleasures.

She wasn't really dancing, and she wasn't really stripping. She was just getting herself off. She laid down on the stage, spread her legs, and plowed the skirt into her pussy with her fingertips. She glanced at me again, to make sure I was still watching, to make sure I knew what I was missing, and then she closed her eyes, as her sweet juice soaked into the folds of her skirt.

I couldn't stand still, as I watched the stain grow, so I grabbed the back of a chair for support. What the hell was she doing to me? She awakened every passion in my body. I wanted to devour her completely. My fingernails dug deep into the chair. I felt the wood crumbling in my hands.

I was doing something to her, too. Linda was so weak now that she could barely stay on her feet, much less dance. She stumbled around, looking drunk, and until finally she spoke into the crowd of police officers, saying, "I'm a bad girl. Come and arrest me."

O'Neil's face lit up like a bulb, as he and an officer named Savage, pushed past me onto the stage, hurrying like children to be part of a favorite game: cops and robbers, with a naughty twist.

Savage pulled out his billy club.

"Turn and lean against the pole!" O'Neil yelled, reaching for his gun.

Linda grabbed the pole at the edge of the stage with both hands, where Savage immediately handcuffed her.

"Spread your legs. . ." O'Neil said, but he was already frisking her from behind before she could oblige. He reached around her to feel her breasts. As he was about to squeeze, Linda bent forward, pressing her ass against the bump in his pants, pushing him back. O'Neil's hands slid down her blouse to her skirt, where he examined her ass in a very unprofessional manner. "My, what do we have here?" he asked, as his hand slithered under the hem of her skirt.

Linda gasped. The handcuffs scraped against the pole, as Linda leaned over even further, and her hands nearly touched the ground.

O'Neil tore her skirt away, and upon seeing her pink, needing cunt, crying out for help, he rushed to her aid. He dropped the gun, and pulled out his concealed weapon.

Savage put his club under Linda's chin, forcing her to look up.

But Linda looked passed him. Our eyes locked. She looked so weak, she could barely keep from falling, yet she mocked me. She was determined to make me regret not taking her.

Savage put his club to Linda's lips, but Linda turned her face away. Then she looked up at him and licked her lips. "Aren't you a little old to be playing with toys?"

Savage dropped the club. He reached for his zipper with one hand and grabbed Linda by the hair with his other, making her cry out in surprise, and exposing her full neck to my view.

I knew what was coming next, and I couldn't watch. I couldn't think clearly anymore, and I was afraid that I would do something stupid. My body was changing, transforming. My dick grew with my passion. My teeth grew with my fury. I was terrified that I would charge up on stage, in front of a dozen cops, and take Linda right then and there.

So instead I did the next worst thing . . .

 ***

 

"I'm sorry boss, but I have to leave for a while." I didn't give him a chance to respond as I hurried out of the Kindling Klub.

I ran down the streets of Metropolis, trying to cool off, but I couldn't stop thinking of Linda. Her sweet lips, her sweet eyes, her sweet breasts, her sweet pussy.

Her sweet blood.

And her unholy passion. She had a lusting as strong and uncontrollable and needing as mine. She needed to be taken as much as I needed to take.

And I hated her! I hated her because she was forbidden. I hated her because I needed her. She was my perfect complement, and my perfect contradiction. I hated her because I was starting to love her, and my love could only bring about her death.

 

* * *

 

> _NATURAL BORN KILLER_
> 
> _Metropolis (AP) - Just hours after earning her PHD in para-psychology at MU, Pamela David of Leesburg died at 12:14 AM Thursday, the third victim of a panther which had escaped from the Riverside Zoo early Sunday morning, and the second victim in 24 hours._
> 
> _MPD Lieutenant Brian O'Neil described the scene as: "The worst thing I've ever seen."_
> 
> _Naturalist Erik Gundelfinger, noting the extent of mutilation, suggested that the panther, which at first killed for food, "is now killing with an almost human brutality."_
> 
> _Supergirl arrived at the scene shortly after the police. She offered her deepest sympathies to Pamela David's family, and promised to use all of her powers to assist in the capture of the panther._

 

I hesitated before approaching the table, the same table Linda and I were making love at (and under) last night. Linda was now sitting there alone with her face stuck in this morning's Daily Planet. I knew that I should just forget about her. I should just walk away, just quit this job, which was supposed to be the perfect cover for the first vampire in Metropolis. It might have been, if only I had kept my wits about me.

But I hadn't been thinking right since I first met Linda just two short days ago. I couldn't stay away from her. I would always come back. I was hooked.

Linda lowered the newspaper and looked up at me. I had forgotten about her super-vision -- she was probably watching me all along, looking right through the paper. Watching me with fire in her eyes.

"I don't know what to say, Linda," I said while sitting down beside her. "I'm so sorry about last night."

"That's OK," she replied, her voice severe, while looking again at the newspaper. "You were right; making love was a bad idea. We should keep our relationship totally professional. No more fucking, no more being fucked. I can't take being hurt all the time."

"Please don't talk like that," I said, shivering from her icy response. She was as cold as the living dead. It didn't suit her. "I really didn't want to hurt you."

"Oh?" Linda shouted, dropping the paper. Her calm exploded, pain pulling one way, anger the other. "So how did you think I'd feel when you just left me there? Do you think I like being used? . . ."

Then she added softly, "Do you think that's what I deserve?"

I shook my head. "Oh, no, the problem is with me, not you. It's all my fault. Being with you was like . . . like being in Heaven. I am the one who doesn't deserve you."

"Is that why you left? Is that why you hit me on the head and ridiculed me in front of everyone?"

I shook my head again, and started blurting out the truth. "I . . . was trying to keep you safe."

Linda was startled by my reply. Her eyes darted with a chaotic movement of emotions. She touched her throat in a defensive gesture, as though sensing something about me. "Safe from what?"

"Safe from me. You see . . . I have a disease," I explained, juggling truth with lies. "A disease that might kill you."

Linda took my hand, as her turbulent emotions anchored on concern. "Do you have AIDS?"

"Something like that. But it's even more dangerous. I didn't want to take a chance on hurting you."

Linda reached out and embraced me before I could say another word.

I wanted to hold her, but my hands paused in mid-air, inches from her back. I was afraid of losing control again. I was afraid to breathe in her scent, to feel her warm skin against mine, to hear her breathing.

But my need for her was greater than my fear. I held her tight, like a drowning man to a life preserver, clinging to her, clinging to myself, not wanting anything to change.

Linda whispered softly in my ear, saying, "I'm sorry I was so mad. I'm so sorry I teased you so cruelly last night. Please don't leave me. Please don't ever die." She lightly stroked my back, and I felt her tears against my cheek, burning like holy water. Her kisses on my neck felt like paradise. Her love filled me, putting me at peace.

And then it struck me how strange this was. After only two days, I had fallen head over heels for Linda, feeling emotions that no vampire should be able to feel. And during those same two days, Linda was clinging to me like we were the closest of intimates -- something she never did with any of her other customers or co-workers.

At first, I had thought she had a kind of super sex appeal, something so powerful it made her irresistible to any man. But that wasn't it. Her powers may have enhanced her appeal, and she put on a hell of a show, yet most of her lusting fans kept their wits about them.

Then I had thought Linda was attracted to me because of my winning personality -- an important skill for anyone who hunts people for a living. I have paralyzed many victims simply by staring into their eyes; they offered up their bodies to me, but they never opened up their hearts or their souls, as Linda was doing.

There was some kind of magic happening between us. We fit together in a kind of perfect symmetry, like yin and yang. An energy flowed between us when we touched, like an electric circuit. She was positive. I was negative. Perfect chemistry.

"Excuse me, Jim," said a voice, countering the magic, chiseling away at the bond. "I need to have a word with Linda."

_Damn you_ , _O'Neil_ , I thought. _You had your fun with her last night, now leave her alone_!

I tried to ignore him, but Linda loosened her hold on me.

"What is it?" she asked. O'Neil stared at me. He clearly expected me to leave, but Linda held my hand securely, and said. "It's OK, I want him here with me."

O'Neil shook his head solemnly, looking nothing like a man whose sexual fantasies just came true last night. He had always greeted Linda with a wide smile and a hard on, but right now he was as serious as a Jew in Auschwitz. What was going on?

"I just have a few more questions," he said, sitting down and producing a pen and a notepad. "When you last talked with Pamela David, did she mention meeting any new men?"

Linda shook her head. "She is not interested in men. . . wasn't, I mean. She was a lesbian."

"Even lesbians meet men," O'Neil pushed. "Are you saying that she never talked about men, period?"

Linda looked as baffled as I was. "Why are you asking me about this? She was killed by a panther, not a man . . . right?"

O'Neil shrugged. "I'm not so sure anymore. Now I think she may have been murdered."

"Ouch!" Linda cried out, as she pulled her hands from my tightening grip.

"Sorry," I said, stroking her hand lightly. "Are you OK?"

Linda wasn't really hurt, but she stared at me in confusion and amazement that anyone could squeeze her hand so tight.

But she didn't know how upset I felt right then. She didn't know how the world seemed to be collapsing around me, especially in the past minute. Suddenly, my cover was shot, and I didn't have an alibi for last night -- an alibi for the murder of one of Linda's close friends. And worst of all, I was falling in love. I was falling in love with someone, who, if she knew the real me, would hate me.

O'Neil raised an eyebrow, wondering what had happened, but then he pressed on without a comment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to add to your burden. I know you and Ms David were very close."

Linda pressed into me for support, and despite the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling, I put my arm around her protectively. I wanted to cover her ears, to protect her from hearing the whole truth.

"Why do you think Pam was murdered?" Linda finally asked.

"Several things," O'Neil began counting with his fingers. "First, all of the victims were attractive young women; there aren't many attractive women who walk the streets alone at three in the morning, so the killer must have been seeking them out. Second, according to the ME, the victim died while standing upright, and all of the scratches occurred postmortem -- both inconsistent with an animal attack. And finally, we found a few human hairs in her hand."

I really had fucked everything up good. Before I came to Metropolis, I had made a mental list of do's & don'ts. In only four day's I had broken almost every rule on the list. Now there was only one rule left: _Never blow your cover_.

"But what about the panther hairs?" I asked, figuring that I should be curious, as if casually discussing a current event. "Didn't the scientists say that they found panther hairs at the scenes?"

O'Neil nodded. "We think the killer is somehow connected to the panther. Maybe he kidnapped it. Maybe he killed it. Maybe the killer works for the zoo. We haven't given it a lot of thought until the autopsy report. Now we're gonna take a second look at the victims and possible suspects in light of this new information."

I nodded. They'll probably think again about the lack of blood in the victim's bodies, and they'll note the strange calm on their faces -- two signatures of a vampire attack.

"Do you have any suspects?" Linda asked, sitting up straight and alert. I saw a glint of vengence in her eyes.

"Nothing yet, and I'm afraid that almost everyone will have a solid alibi. They could say they were asleep at midnight, like most working folk." Then O'Neil smiled. "Most folk besides cops, strippers and bouncers, anyway."

I didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. It was only a matter of time before he asked where I was last night. So I tried to lighten the mood up a bit. "Hey, I resent being called a bouncer. I'm a security guard."

O'Neil shot back, "Yeah, we call you guys the Pussy Police at the station."

"How about the Cunt Cops," Linda said, then suddenly she hid her face in embarrassment.

We both stared at her for a moment, too surprised to laugh.

"Anyway," O'Neil began, sounding serious again. "We'll be out in force tonight, looking for suspects and young ladies who are foolish enough to walk home alone. If the creep is out there, we'll see him."

O'Neil seemed determined to talk about suspects. I had to try something more provocative to get him off the subject. "Why hasn't Supergirl done anything about this? Where are the superheroes when you need them?"

Linda and O'Neil glanced at each other, which struck me as odd, and then Linda said, "She was probably sleeping, like everyone else."

"Really? I didn't think they needed to sleep. I would have thought all that extra energy would keep them awake at night."

I could see the confusion in Linda's eyes, as she tried to defend her alter ego. "We . . . They need to sleep just like anyone else. Besides . . .you haven't read Clark Kent's article in the paper a few weeks back?"

I shook my head. "I just read the headlines."

"Well," Linda began, deep in thought, either remembering the article or talking from experience, "you know that Kryptonians get their power from the sun, right? Well, they lose most of their energy at night, when the sun goes down. I mean, they still have a lot of power, they can still fly and all that, but they are much weaker and being without sunlight wipes them out until they simply have to sleep."

My jaw dropped, as the proverbial light bulb flashed on in my head. Suddenly, my intense attraction to Linda and even the physical chemistry we had together -- it all made sense. Sunlight! That was the connection between Linda and me. That's why my skin burned and why she ached whenever we were near each other. She radiated with life born from sunlight, while I fed from her life and drew my strength from the darkness. She suffered from too much life, too much love, too much emotion. I suffered from apathy and hunger and death. We were perfect for each other.

Or maybe we would be each other's destruction.

"So the best time for a criminal to strike is at night," commented O'Neil. Apparently a light was going off in his head, too, but it was leading him in the wrong direction. "I wonder if our killer planned it this way. Maybe writing that article wasn't such a good idea. Leave it to a reporter to mess everything up for crime fighters."

"What if Superman or Supergirl slept earlier in the evening?" I asked Linda. "Did the article say anything about that? Maybe they could sleep between sunset and midnight, and be ready to fight at midnight."

Linda shook her head. "I don't think the article talked about that . . . but I guess they lose energy whether they sleep or not, and they are really tired until the sun comes up again."

O'Neil frowned at Linda. "She's gonna have a tough time keeping that promise she made last night to Pamela's parents. How can she use all of her powers to help capture this creep when she's half asleep? "

Linda shrugged. "I'm sure she'll do her best…"

 ***

Linda danced for one show that night, but she wasn't into it at all, and she asked the boss for the rest of the night off.

The boss was a real prick, but he knew that Linda had just lost a close friend last night, so he let her go. It wasn't like he was gonna fire his biggest star, anyway.

Firing me was a different story. After the stunt I pulled last night -- walking out in the middle of a show with no explanation -- the boss told me I could pick up my first and only check in eight days.

But I hung around, watching Linda perform for that one show, and she ignored the whole audience, dancing only for me. She went through all the motions, teasing me, and then opening her pussy wide, inviting me in. She wanted for me to climb up on stage with her and send her to nirvana, like I did that first night. But the wettest woman alive was only wet around the eyes. So I climbed up on stage, covered her with my jacket, and led her into the back room, where we talked for hours, until the bar closed.

But Linda didn't want to stop talking, or the sadness would come back, so we started walking together on the deserted streets of Metropolis.

"I want to talk until dawn," Linda said with a skip and a smile. She swung her purse in the air, as though suddenly she didn't have a care in the world. She was still naked, wearing only my jacket. She wasn't even wearing shoes.

"Well, what should we talk about?" I asked.

"How about we talk about you?"

I shook my head, "Nothing much to say about me. How about we talk about you?"

"If I tell you about me, will you tell me about you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Linda frowned, but she wanted to talk, not argue. "So where should I start?"

"How do you know Pamela David?"

Linda shook her head vehemently, "No unhappy stuff."

"How about happy memories about her? Maybe something you'd want to remember her by."

"Why do you want to know about her?" Linda asked.

I shrugged. I always liked to hear about the lives that were sacrificed for me, but I couldn't tell Linda that.

Linda smiled with a tear in her eye. "Pamela showed me how to dance. We used to dance for each other."

"Really?"

"That was how we'd make love. We'd dance for hours, and we'd play role playing games. S&M. Until we were so hot and tired we just collapsed in bed together. Most of the stuff I do on stage for the Kindling Klub I did with her first."

"So what happened? Why did you stop seeing each other."

Linda shook her head and took my hand. She didn't answer for about a minute. "I loved her, but loving her was not enough. She couldn't satisfy me, and she refused to share me with anyone. I tried my best to be faithful, but I couldn't be faithful in my fantasies, and she always knew exactly how I was feeling. And when I finally … cheated, she knew that, too."

I squeezed her hand gently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking questions like that."

Linda smiled. "Let's talk about something more fun."

"Like what?"

"Like why did you get a job in a strip club? You already know why I work there."

I nodded. "Because you are one fantastic fucking machine."

Linda gave me a gentle shove that almost lifted me off my feet. "Shut up!"

"I meant it as a compliment. You are also wetter than a watermelon. But I don't understand why you invite men on stage with you. Some people say that it makes you dirty."

Linda raised her nose in the air. "I'll have you know I wash myself completely after every performance. All my customers get fresh, grade A pussy."

I smiled. "But what about getting pregnant?"

"Only one man can do that to me, and he won't, so there's nothing to worry about," Linda said mysteriously, and then she patted my crotch. "Besides, I can't get pregnant if a man won't even take it out of his pants."

"But I told you, I have a disease. Aren't you worried about diseases?"

Linda shook her head confidently. "Nothing to worry about. I can't catch diseases. Doctor said so."

_Alright, Linda, you might as well just come out and say that you're Supergirl if you'll make comments like that._

She stopped me, looked me in the eyes, and whispered her confession, "You know, you really don't need to worry about me. You see . . . I want to tell you . . ."

"Tell me what?" I asked.

She changed her mind and smiled suddenly. "I'm getting wet again. Wanna see?" She lifted the jacket a few inches, allowing me a quick peek. Then she kissed me quickly on the lips, and we continued walking.

When we arrived at the Riverside Park, a clock on a nearby church chimed three times. We sat down on a bench and relaxed for a while.

I looked up into the night sky, above the lights of Metropolis, and the sky was velvet black. I looked for the moon, to see it reflecting back the sunlight even at nighttime. But the moon was gone.

Then Linda yawned and rested her head on my shoulder. "That's where the panther escaped from," she said, indicating the zoo a short walk from the park.

I nodded. "Is that why you wanted to walk here? To see where the panther came from?"

She shrugged. " I guess I just wanted to understand what happened to Pam, what she went through, but this doesn't help. I mean, the panther didn't even do it. I guess I'll never really know."

"I guess not. You can never really understand what anyone goes through unless you walk in their shoes."

"That sounds like something O'Neil always says," Linda said, suddenly standing up. "Common, lets go."

"Go? Go where? What does O'Neil always say."

"He says that you have to go to the crime scene to understand the crime. You have to walk in their footsteps, and see what they saw."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "I don't know about this Linda. This sounds . . . dangerous. And you aren't exactly dressed . . . at all."

Linda ducked under my arm and urged me forward with a smile and a yawn. "Well, you'll be there to protect me if we run into trouble, right?"

"But it's four miles away," I whined.

"Please!" she whined back. And off we went.

When we had walked only two miles, Linda could barely keep her eyes open. And her fragile happiness was beginning to show cracks.

"Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Maybe I should just take you home so you can get some sleep."

Linda shook her head, smiling weakly. The playfulness in her walk was gone now. "No, I'm sorry. Let's keep talking a while. We're almost there, anyway."

"Why are you so curious about how Pam died?"

"I just am. It just doesn't seem real to me, that she's gone. It's hard to face it. And maybe I can learn something that will help catch this bastard!" she said with a sudden venom that stung me.

But as the minutes passed, the weight of her sorrow and exhaustion was too heavy, crushing out her anger and sapping her strength. She held on to my arm for both emotional and physical support.

We turned a corner and stopped in our tracks at the end of an alley. The alley where Pam died. The alley where I had taken the life of her friend.

"Oh . . ." Linda cried, shivering, afraid to go on.

I consoled her, telling her everything was OK.

She summoned an ounce of strength, maybe feeding off the few rays of starlight. "I'm sorry, I'm OK. I'm just . . . really tired. Come on."

I followed her down the alley, into the shadows -- away from the artificial lights of Metropolis and into the true darkness of night. I followed her into a place that was all too familiar. A place where last night I met a woman about Linda's height, and as full of life and passion and pain, and who coincidentally wore the same perfume. Calyx, I think. Linda and I saw the traces of a chalk outline on the broken pavement, and sensed the fetor of rotting blood.

Linda's eyes were wide with horror, as the reality of Pam's death hit her all at once. She literally flew about thirty feet down the alley before crashing into a trashcan and landing on her ass at the bottom steps of a fire escape.

When she looked up, I was standing above her, just a dark silhouette.

"I'm sorry Jim, I didn't think it would hurt this bad," Linda cried. "Pam couldn't forgive me. . . And now she never will."

Linda was sprawled out. Her jacket was laying open, exposing her body to the night. Her purse was hanging upside down from the fire escape railing, with her red cape falling out to the ground. And just under her lip was a tiny cut. A drop of blood, rolling down her chin . . .

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, but part of her knew. She could see it in my eyes. She could feel the emptiness, hypnotizing her, erasing her pain, comforting her, just like hundreds of women before her. It was a vampire's power. It was our gift.

But she could also see something human, something that she brought out in me. She could see my desire for her, not just for her blood and her life but for who she was.

"Take me far away from here," Linda pleaded, as she inched her ass up the steps of the fire escape, her pussy blooming in my face, glistening under the streetlights. I climbed up the steps after her, until she laid still at the first landing, her legs hanging over the edge. "Please take away all this pain."

I kneeled between her legs. She buried her fingers in my hair, as I spread her pussy and slid my tongue deep inside her. "Oh!" she cried out, and her chest thrust forward, when my growing teeth glanced against her clit. I squeezed her ass with both hands, my claws digging into her skin, breaking the barrier. Linda's powers were all but gone, now. I could almost taste her blood through the fragile skin of her pussy, as fragile as a rose petal.

But Linda pulled on my hair, urging me up her body, until we were face to face. The cut on her lip was now streaking blood down her cheek.

"Please don't stop this time," Linda begged, as she undid the button on my jeans, and she kissed me full on the mouth.

My whole body convulsed when I tasted the blood on her lips and tongue. It burned like fire, yet it soothed a pain I didn't even know I had. I knew I couldn't stop this time. I needed her too bad. I needed to possess her.

I kissed her hard on the lips, searching her mouth with my tongue, while Linda searched my jeans with her hand, until she freed my dick.

I plunged inside her, crashing with her cervix. She would have cried out if I hadn't stolen her breath. I thrust again, but she was ready this time, and when I came in again, her hips rose to meet me.

We tried to kiss, but our lips kept missing, and we needed to breathe, so we continued the dance cheek to cheek.

Then our bodies locked together for just a moment. The vast distance between us . . . between a woman who loves, a child of the sun . . . and a man . . . no, less than a man, who was born of darkness, and who thought he could not experience love. That distance was bridged.

Linda threw her head back as I came hard inside her, filling her with my emptiness, exploding all her pain into oblivion. . .

. . . while I attacked her throat like a wild animal tearing down it's prey. Her blood flooded my mouth, stinging like a tonic and sending wave after wave of pleasure to my brain. I closed my eyes and for a moment that lasted somewhere between a second and an hour, I felt like I was in paradise.

 ***

I thought I heard a crack of thunder. I thought I saw a flash of light. But I must have imagined it. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

And then I was back on Earth, standing over Linda's body on a web of steel wires and bars.

I tasted her bitter sweet life on my tongue. I caught one last glimpse of her eyes before they closed. I could hear her heart pumping furiously, yet there was so little blood left in her to pump. And then it just stopped. Was her soul was already gone, swallowed up in the night? Where was she now? In Heaven?

I choked on her blood and cried out loud. I reached down to the ground and grabbed her cape. I covered her face. Yes, she must be in Heaven, or else I could never forgive myself.

Hell could not keep her. She would be like a flower growing on barren soil, just as she gave love to my barren soul. But if Hell has claimed her, then I must rush to her side. Oh, my love, I would follow you anywhere _!_

I felt a slight burning on my skin, and I looked up into the sky. There was a halo over the horizon. Dawn was about to break. I would not hide in the shadows this time, or behind walls. I would face the light.

And I will see you again soon, my dear Linda . . .


	7. Under Their Thumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > After the scare in Blood Prey, Supergirl's friends get very protective of her, and keep her Under Their Thumbs
>> 
>> _If you don't like a single thing that I'm saying,_  
>  _If you're offended when I demonstrate,_  
>  _Don't mean a damn to me and I shall continue,_  
>  _Hope you won't mind if I control my fate._  
>  \-- _Freedom_ , Blues Traveler  
>   
>   
> 

Like a cat lying on a window sill, basking in sunlight. That's how I felt. The world was gone, and I was just "there", somewhere, nowhere, surrounded by light and warmth and love. I felt free and safe.

All of Heaven was open to me, ready to receive me, if only I knew how to enter, if only Heaven were more familiar.

Then, not quite suddenly, the white light that surrounded me took forms, and the love that filled my heart was not so anonymous. A voice spoke my name, my true name, and I melted into a tear.

"Daddy!" I cried out in a new language that was neither English nor Kryptonian. Zor-el looked just as he had always looked, his hair long, his beard unshaven, because he was always working, it seemed, sacrificing all his time and finally his life to save his daughter.

"Kara, we've been waiting for you," replied Zor-el, as he held me tight. "Your mother is waiting to hug the daughter she could never touch. Your friends from home want to hear how you survived the Abyss. You even have a friend from Earth, her heart overflowing with forgiveness. My beautiful Kara, you have spread love throughout the universe."

I held to him tightly. "Oh, Daddy, I've missed you all so much! Where is mom? Where is Pam?"

"You'll be with them shortly, but first will you do something for me? " Zor-el said mysteriously, then he paused to smile at me.

I smiled back and kissed his cheek. "Anything, Daddy."

Then his eyes frowned slightly. "Would you please put some clothes on?"

My smile dropped. "What?" I asked in shock ...

***

Something changed. I heard a crack of thunder. Zor-el's bright face disappeared behind clouds, and his warm embrace turned suddenly cold, leaving me alone and shivering, my whole body tingling and aching, as if in withdrawal from his love.

I opened my eyes, and I could barely see the three men who were standing over me.

The first man blinded me with a penlight, saying, "Hello, there. How are ya doing? Can you see this light."

I tried to respond, but I don't think I said anything.

Another voice said, "You might as well ask her if she saw the light of heaven, because she's been dead for almost an hour. It's a miracle."

"More likely the fires of Hell," continued a third man, his voice severe. He wore a black suit with a funny collar. "She lived a life of sin and has earned a sinner's fate."

Suddenly that man was pulled away, and a familiar face filled my vision. "Linda! Linda, oh thank God, you're alive! Are you OK? Do you want anything?"

I closed my eyes, as all the horrors and pains of living came back to me like a tidal wave.

I longed for the warm bright sunlight and that wonderful sensation of love. I reached out with my hands, and I don't know why, but I cried out the name of my cat, "Calvin..." before I fell into a deep sleep.

***

I tossed and turned for some time, falling in and out of sleep, but never fully conscious. I heard many voices talking frantically, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

***

"Hello, my sweet little muffin," Officer Brian O'Neil greeted me with a great big smile on his face when I finally opened my eyes.

I smiled back at him, though smiling did not come easily. I felt terrible. My body was slick with sweat, and the flimsy hospital gown I was wearing irritated my skin. I tried to turn my head, but something prevented me. I glanced up and saw braces holding my head still, and an IV drip above them.

Brian, catching my confusion, explained. "The docs tried to attach the IV to your arm, but they couldn't push the needle through your skin. It's amazing how such soft skin can be so strong. Anyway, they had to use the two holes Jim poked in your neck. You really had us going there, sweetie. The doctors were franticly guessing at how to treat you. They wasted about fifteen minutes bickering that they didn't have any Kryptonian blood, before they tried regular old type 'O'. Worked like a charm."

'How did I get here?" I asked wearily. I couldn't think or see clearly, and I could barely understand what Brian was saying. Everything was a blur. What was that he said about my neck?

"I found you," Brian replied solemnly, "after someone called into the station this morning, complaining about a disturbance outside of their apartment. I saw the red cape first. For a sec I thought ...Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. You're alive and you'll be beating the crap out of bad guys again in no time. That's all that matters, now."

"I'm sorry, Brian," I said wearily, embarrassed that Brian had to rescue me.

He took my hand in his, and I was alarmed to see how white and anemic my skin looked against his healthy tone.

Memories of last night flooded my brain. Pam was dead. Murdered. Jim was there for me, comforting me, making love to me, taking away my pain. His eyes were so kind at first. Then hungry like a wild animal. What did he do to me? I had trusted him totally, and he was so gentle. At first. But then he attacked me. I remember feeling a sharp feeling at my throat . . .

Oh God, he was the killer! It was so obvious! Now I felt really ashamed and afraid. I had been so weak. I should have known, and I should have protected Pam from him. Instead, I nearly chased her into the grave.

Why couldn't Brian just let me die? Everyone I loved was already dead. My life was shattered. Why bother living anymore?

"Hey, hey, it's OK, munchkin!" Brian whispered, when I started bawling like a baby. "Really, everything will be fine. Here, maybe this will brighten you up." He reached down below the hospital bed and struggled for a moment. "You don't know how hard it was to get him by the doctors!"

When Brian put Calvin on the bed beside me, I stopped weeping. My poor little cat looked up at me with concern, more for his own well being than for mine. Calvin was a house-cat, and this was the first time he had been out of the house since I had adopted him. I knew exactly how he felt. Uprooted. Disoriented. Insecure. He burrowed under the blanket and nestled between my arm and my chest. I wanted to surround him with my body as if I were a cocoon and kiss him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, just like I wish someone would do for me, but I could barely even move my head. At least I could pet him and feel his warm fur between my fingers. His dependence on me made me feel stronger.

I smiled at Brian, tears streaking down my cheeks. "Thank you."

He smiled back.

The door to the hospital room opened. Three military officers were standing outside, holding reporters back, while three other men hurried through, closing the door behind them: Clark, Andrew and a doctor.

I squirmed nervously.

Clark was wearing his red and blue. His eyes were filled with pain and anger, and I prayed that he wasn't angry at me. I started to say his name, wanting to apologize without even knowing if I had done something wrong yet, but he covered my mouth with his hand, protecting his identity from the doctor.

Andrew already knew Superman's alter ego, as did O'Neil, who had ties to the SSA. But the doctor was apparently on a need to know basis.

"Well, look who's awake," smiled the doctor with all the sincerity of a politician, as he took my hand and felt my pulse. "Hmm, your pulse is finally down to normal. You gave everyone quite a scare, Supergirl."

"What about my skin?" I asked him, showing him my hand. "Why is it so white?"

"Your skin color and strength will return to normal in a few days," the doc replied with confidence, as though he'd taken care of Kryptonians throughout his career. He looked me over. "You already look much better than you looked just fifteen minutes ago."

I wanted to ask him a few more questions, like how long I needed the IV in my neck, or if I could get the brace removed. But Clark interrupted.

"Thank you doctor," Clark said, while urging him towards the door.

"No problem. I'll check on her frequently during the next few hours. Oh! And the cafeteria is putting together a special diet high in iron for the girl of steel." he said, smiling brightly at the play on words.

Clark smiled back perfunctorily and then closed the door behind him.

Suddenly the room was quiet, except for the dull clamor of reporters yelling outside the room, demanding to know what was going on. Andrew, Clark and Brian were all just staring at me, shaking their heads.

"What does the media know?" I finally asked.

"They know that you were injured," Andrew replied, while flipping out a notebook. "Supergirl, that is. They don't know about Linda Lee or your moonlighting as a stripper, but they may figure it out when they put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Quite a crowd gathered around when the ambulance came to your rescue, and they all saw that you were naked and bleeding. An hour later, it was reported on the news. Rumor has it that you are hairless down under, but that kind of news only gets around through the grapevine, so no one will take the rumors seriously in a week or two. A few people saw your face, and others claim that you had light brown hair. Fortunately, no one took a picture."

"That reminds me," Brian said, and a moment later, all I could see was a drape of blonde hairs covering my face. Brian carefully adjusted the wig, looking at it from all angles, making sure that not a single brown hair leaked out, while gently caressing my face at the same time. "If the media somehow manages to sneak past our guards, they should see a blonde haired Supergirl."

I watched Brian as he worked. I knew that his lust for me was only matched by his affection, but he never once asked anything of me. He never judged me.

If only my other friends were like that.

I didn't want to look at Clark, whose glare was so intense I could actually feel the heat on my skin. I didn't want to imagine what he might be thinking of me.

Clark never knew. He never knew anything! He never knew about my adventure with Catwoman. He never knew about my lesbian relationships with Pamela or Carol. And he certainly never knew about the Luscious Linda Lee at the Kindling Klub. He thought I was just a sweet, vulnerable orphan who happened to have an aversion to panties. That alone should have told him something.

Andrew continued consulting his notes. "A few cops at the scene recognized you, but they agreed to keep it hush-hush. O'Neil, I'm counting on you to keep them at their word. They seem eager to brag. This is a real mess. We haven't told the media a story yet, but we are thinking something close to the truth, like: you were attacked--"

"Why did you dye your hair?" Clark suddenly asked, interrupting Andrew, as though it was a critically important question.

I knew he wasn't really thinking about my hair, but I answered the question, anyway. "What difference does it make? I had to wear a wig one way or the other, either as Linda or Supergirl. Women dye their hair all the time." I didn't want to tell him that when I perform, men touch my hair and see it up close. They would notice a wig right away.

"Why did you do it?" Clark yelled suddenly, startling me. He said the word 'it' like he might say the word whore or abomination. "Doesn't Andrew pay you enough for his assignments? Surely you know how dangerous it is."

I shook my head. "It's not that dangerous, really. I can't catch any of their diseases, and they can't catch--"

"Haven't you learned anything from last night?" Clark cut me off, shaking a finger at me and pacing around the room. His muscles were bulging through his costume as he held back his immense temper. He scared me. Andrew and Brian wisely stayed out of his way. "You are playing games with your powers. Andrew told me the kinds of stuff you do on stage, so late at night. Playing around with Kryptonite would be safer. If I ever hear about you doing that again . . ." he trailed off, as his anger evaporated.

I wanted to object, but Brian beat me to it, saying, "Maybe Linda should keep stripping for just a while longer."

"What?" Clark said, flashing him a glare.

"As bait to a trap," Brian continued bravely. "We still have a killer vampire out there on the loose, and we have no clue where to find him. Jim's very smart, and he's hiding his trail. But maybe we don't need to find him. Jim was screwing up the past several days, since he met Linda, and I think she touched him in some way. He was very attracted to her. Obsessively so, don’t you think, Linda? Sure, he tried to kill her, but he regretted it, as evidenced by the way he covered her face when he thought she was dead. Now, that he knows she is alive, he'll want to see her again. I think part of him wants to be caught. If Linda goes back on stage, I bet he'll come back to see her and we can trap him."

Andrew nodded, "Hmm, sounds like a good plan. The best we have, anyway. Just so long as the vampire never gets close to Linda. If she has to use her powers to defend herself, the whole world will know her dirty little secrets."

"Don't talk like that," I objected. "You were a part of some of those secrets, remember?"

Andrew adjusted his tie and glanced at Clark. "I'm sorry, Linda, but this is business. It doesn't matter what we do in private; the media is gonna be looking for any dirt on Supergirl that it can find. You'll need to be the perfect lady in public, and as modest as Mother Theresa. I'm just trying to protect your image."

"I don't want your protection. What difference does it make? Maybe everybody should know the truth. Just line up a bunch of reporters in the hall, and I'll do a show just for them."

Clark looked at me sadly. "Oh, Kara, what would your father think if he heard you talking like that? You are disgracing the memory of Krypton."

His words hit me harder than his fist ever could. "What do you know about Krypton, Kal?" I lashed back, "You -- you barely even know the language. And you never knew my father."

Clark touched my hand with his. "I'm sorry Linda, I'm just really concerned about you."

"Go away," I said, pulling my hand away and choking on my tears. "All of you. Please. I'm really tired. I can't do this anymore."

***

Confused, afraid, sad, lost, dizzy. So many emotions, none of them good. I didn't need to feel angry as well.

How could they come in here and attack me like that? I felt like they were hitting me when I was down.

At least I have you Calvin, I thought. He purred loudly as I rubbed his neck and head, and his purring made me feel better. I decided that pets were better than friends, but I didn't want to believe it.

A few minutes later, a nurse named Janine rolled a TV set into the room and handed me the remote control. She was very nice -- not fake like the doctor was. She wasn't gonna write this experience up in some journal. She wasn't sucking up to people in authority. She was just doing her job -- helping people. She told me if I needed anything at all, even if it was just to talk, to call her. I smiled and thanked her. I decided that strangers are better than friends, but I didn't want to believe that, either.

As soon as I clicked the TV on, I saw a stock photo of myself on the news, and I discovered what happened last night -- what Clark, Andrew and Brian neglected to tell me.

"A stalker still haunts Metropolis by night, but the stalker is not a panther! Police confirm that the animal responsible for four deaths in the past week is in fact a vampire. Tragedy was narrowly averted early this morning when Supergirl confronted the vampire -- and lost! Her body was stripped naked and left for dead. She has been in critical condition through most of the morning at Metro General Hospital, but just minutes ago her condition was upgraded to stable. Details are sketchy at this time. Was she sexually assaulted? How could a vampire defeat someone so powerful? Why were fibers of panther fur found on the bodies of every victim. Police have declined to comment."

That was all the information the news crew had about last night. For the next fifteen minutes they retold the same story three different ways, and interviewed "experts" who made educated guesses. The anchor woman interviewed a psychic who had insisted for many years that vampires were real, and delighted in saying "I told you so" before dropping the topic altogether and prophesying about the end of the world.

After that, the network returned to the regularly scheduled soap opera at that time slot, but abruptly interrupted again with breaking news. "We've just acquired a video tape that sheds some new light on the events happening this morning."

The ten seconds of video tape looked like it was filmed by someone on a pogo stick. It was a series of brief images and blurs. The network played the tape first at normal speed, then in slow motion. The first clear image was of a cop trying to push the camera man away from the scene. The second image showed the alley where Jim attacked me. The playback stopped on the final image and zoomed in, showing me on a stretcher. My face was blocked by a paramedic, but I was stunned to see my bare breasts filling the TV screen -- filling the screens of half the TV sets across the nation.

Of course, people looked at my bare breasts every night at the Kindling Klub, but I never expected to see them on public TV for every man, woman and child to see. I didn't even think it was legal, but the network actually freeze framed it there. Maybe the image was so blurry that it passed the censors. Or maybe they were willing to challenge the rules for high ratings. The anchor man reached across my breasts onscreen with a pointer to indicate the two puncture marks on my neck, and a smudging of blood on my shoulder. I put my fingers to my throat and felt the rough surface of a cloth bandage, and then the smooth, cool plastic of the IV tubes. When I touched them, something shifted under my skin, unsettling me, summoning up memories of last night. Of Jim's face, his mouth opening, baring his teeth. Of his hot breath on my throat. Of his teeth, under my skin.

I turned off the TV set. That was enough catching up for now.

"Well, how is my favorite patient feeling?" said my doctor with his patented plastic smile, as he carried in a tray of food. I wondered if doctors usually delivered room service themselves, or if I was getting special treatment.

"I'd be feeling better if people would knock before they come in," I replied.

His smile barely wavered, but I knew he didn't like me any more than I liked him. "Very spirited, aren't we? That's a good sign."

He pressed a button on the side of the bed. I felt my head lifting up, and soon I was sitting fully upright. Then he swung a small table into place over my lap and placed the tray of food upon it.

I wasn't hungry to begin with, but I was even less hungry now, looking at my meal: Spinach, some kind of awful looking meat that I later found out to be baked liver, a stale white roll, and small glass of yellow juice.

Calvin peaked over the tray to sniff at the liver. As far as I was concerned, he could have it.

The doctor walked around my bed and reached to grab Calvin, who hissed at him. "Bad cat!" he said with a sneer. "He shouldn't be here in the first place."

"Leave him alone!" I yelled. The doctor was so startled he leaped backwards. He was afraid of me, even in my weakened state. I stroked Calvin gently to calm him down, and I said more quietly, "He's not a bad cat. He's just acting naturally."

"That's what being bad means, dear girl," the doctor replied as he headed for the door. "Enjoy your meal."

***

Calvin looked worried as I put him in the pet carrier, but I was smiling. Not a thin polite smile. Not a half-hearted humorous smile. No, a big white toothy smile. Because I was going home from the hospital. And for the first time, even my doctor's smile seemed genuine.

I had been at Metro General for only three days, but it seemed like much longer than that. I hated having the armed guards at my door. I hated the hospital food. I hated Andrew's and Clark's frequent visits, since all they did was attack rather than comfort me. I hated everything about this white, lifeless, sterile place. The nurse Janine helped me get ready for my departure -- she was the one bright spot of this whole experience. I gained one friend. I might have lost two.

The most important thing was that I was feeling better, and I didn't look deathly ill anymore. The "type O" blood was doing the job, but it was like putting economy gasoline in a Ferrari. It wasn't quite the real thing. My powers were iffy at best. My skin was impenetrable, but I was swelling around my joints. If I really concentrated, I could probably bend steel, though I'd rather just lie down and do nothing. It would be several days, maybe even weeks before I was at 100%.

I dressed up as Linda and slipped past the media outside the hospital without notice. My first thought was that I'd sneak into an alley, change into my costume and fly home, but I felt dizzy, like I might faint. I glanced back at the hospital, thinking that maybe I should stay a while longer, but just the thought of the doctor's smug face calling me "his dear girl" renewed my resolve. I hailed a taxi.

The ride home was more interesting than I hoped for. The driver was Arabic, and he didn’t speak English well, but he sure talked a lot. Maybe he thought conversation was part of the job. He complained every mile between the hospital and my driveway about how lonely it is here in America. People didn't understand him, no one spoke his language, and he felt like an outsider. I found myself sympathizing with him. I remembered how hard it was to learn English and to make friends, especially outside of college. But the cab driver lost my sympathetic ear when he rebuked me for under-dressing. He also lost a good tip.

What was he even complaining about? I mean, my skirt was almost knee length, and my blouse was loose fitting. Well, OK, I wasn't wearing a bra, but it wasn't all that noticeable. I knew I shouldn't let his hang-up get to me.

It was just that when he said that, he sounded *so* like my father. . .

***

Zor-El was the most loving man I've ever known, and I loved him dearly, yet throughout my teenaged years, we were always fighting. We fought about how I dressed, what I did with my friends, and how little he cared. But it never really seemed like we were fighting with each other. It was more like we were fighting against fate and the shadow of the Abyss. We knew exactly when we would all die, right down to the hour, and we faced this knowledge in very different ways.

I didn't understand the concept of "generation gap" until just a few years ago, in Psychology 101. Social Sciences were a new idea for me, as was "formal education". No one saw any point for that in Argo City, since resources were so low, and everybody knew we had no future. So why go to school? We were the lost generation.

My generation grew up on a mining asteroid, with little food and diminishing resources. It was a miracle that we were even born, but it was a forgone conclusion that we would all die within seventeen years, whether from running out of food or from a meteor shower that everyone knew from day one was gonna hit. Somehow, we managed to make the food last, but we could not stop the meteors. My generation lived our lives without any kind of hope. We accepted our fate, and we lived life to the fullest until the day of the Abyss

Daddy had lived a very different kind of life from me. He came from a rich, proud family, living in the palaces of Krypton, and worshiping a god named Rao. He studied with famous intellects, who all preached the supreme power of the mind, and the ability to overcome every obstacle. To him, accepting our fate and enjoying life in the shadow of death was unthinkable.

I don't know why I never listened to him. He was, after all, the reason why many of us survived on Argo City for so many years. When he promised me that I would survive the starvation and the meteors, he wasn't just trying to give a desperate girl false hope. Maybe I didn't listen because I didn't really want to survive, not without him, and not without my friends or the only life I'd ever known.

I didn't want to die, but I wanted to face the Abyss like everyone else. I wanted to hope the same crazy hopes that there was something wonderful and marvelous on the other side.

In a way, that's exactly what happened. I faced my Abyss for several weeks in a tiny capsule, losing my mind in grief and loneliness and fear, until the capsule finally opened, and I was born into this new terrifyingly beautiful world, called Earth.

I had always been afraid to wonder if my parents and friends ever made it through their Abyss, into their afterlife. Yesterday morning I found out -- unless I was only dreaming. But it seemed so real, so overwhelming, I could not possibly have imagined it. When my father rebuked me for being naked, it sounded so like him, as real as if he slapped my face.

***

"This your home, lady?"

"Huh?" I said, suddenly remembering where I was. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

The cab driver pulled into my driveway, and I climbed outside. Calvin meowed excitedly in his box. I shared the sentiment. It seemed like I was gone for more than just three days. And, oh, was ever I looking forward to taking a long, long bath!

"Very nice little house. Very pretty," said the cab driver. "I wish I could live in a place like this."

I smiled, forgetting how the driver had offended me earlier. I gave him a big tip.

Then I snagged two Daily Planets up from my porch and opened the door.

***

Newspapers were not meant to be read while taking a bath. It was simply impossible to keep the paper dry when the front page story continued on page 24. But I couldn't stop reading the article:

"What Really Happened to Supergirl" by Clark Kent.

In short, Clark told the biggest lie he had ever told -- other than that he was just a mild mannered reporter, anyway. The story was 100% damage control. He dismissed the accounts from eye witnesses who saw my brown hair and my shaved pussy as pure fantasy. The lady who called 911, thus saving my life, later told the press that she heard moans of pleasure, but Clark ridiculed her interpretation, saying that moans of pain were easily confused with moans of pleasure.

Then Clark totally pissed me off by fabricating a story about that night, with no basis in truth, and claiming that *I* was the source of the information! Presumably, I was searching for the panther that night, when I encountered a man in apparent danger. But he was a vampire, not a man, and he allegedly lured me into a trap, involving, of course, kryptonite. Then he tore off my clothes and brutally attacked me, raped me, and left me for dead.

Oh, Clark, why did you have to lie? Whatever happened to journalistic integrity? Whatever happened to Truth, Justice and the American Way? Was that just a cruel joke? A slogan?

I knew that Clark was jeopardizing his reputation to protect me, but I wished he hadn't. I never asked him to, and I didn't appreciate being put in his debt. He had always let me live my own life and make my own decisions, but now he was making decisions for me. He was trying to protect me from myself.

I dropped the newspaper beside the tub and closed my eyes, trying to relax. I reminded myself that Clark was only protecting me because he cared. I should have been used to that, because my father tried to shelter me throughout most of my life. But instead of relaxing me, those thoughts made my blood boil and my muscles itch.

I climbed out of the tub and stood naked in front of the mirror. While drying myself with a towel, I looked my body over. My skin was a little red from the hot water -- something which never happened when I was a full-blooded Kryptonian - but otherwise I looked in the peak of health. The swelling at my joints was gone, and even the bite marks on my throat were healing nicely. A touch of make-up would hide them.

If I wanted to hide them, that is. My first impression of the scars was that they were ugly, but now I found myself admiring them. They were attractive, in a sick sort of way. Through these holes, Jim entered my body. From these holes, Jim drained my life. Into these holes, I was given new life. I stroked them lightly with my fingertips -- and shivered. I realized the scars were erogenous zones. So it would be criminal to show them in public, I thought with a sly grin and a feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach.

Whenever I would meet someone as Supergirl, they would glance at my neck, hoping to see the vampire's signature. But to actually let anyone, especially a stranger, see something so erotic, so personal, so terrifying, so meaningful, would be obscene. There were no laws against exposed scars, but any decent person would have enough shame to hide them.

Shame is such a dirty word. My life was full of it, and just the idea that someone should do something out of shame disgusted me. I was always proud of my body, even before I had a "Super" body. It was my one true gift, and I wanted to share it.

I smiled as I thought how my erotic antics kept Clark and Andrew, who were considerably less proud of my body, scurrying to quell a rumor or hide evidence, and replacing it with the "official truth".

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I tried to reconcile what I saw with how the world saw me. I felt a horrible wave of anxiety rush through me, as though suddenly I didn't recognize myself.

Did the world know that my nipples hardened when I touched them? Did they know how easily my juices flowed in my officially recognized blonde-tressed pussy?

Did they want to know?

I slipped my red micro-skirt over my officially recognized blue panties. My nipples officially didn't peek through the "S" on my blue and red top. I debated whether to wear the wig, since my hair was still officially blonde, but I chickened out and wore it anyway.

Then, in full uniform, and with a dangerous state of mind, I opened the window and leaped up into the sky, un-officially back in action.

***

Maybe I was rushing my recovery, I thought as I nearly crashed into a tree. I was like a bird trying to fly with clipped wings. But I quickly adjusted to my handicapped powers and gained some altitude.

Supergirl was an everyday sight in the skies over Metropolis, yet today many people stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I wondered what they were thinking. Were they happy to see me? Or maybe all the rumors and "official truth" were making them suspicious, as they would be of any celebrity.

I didn't want to think about that right now, so with a surge of energy, I climbed into the sky, above the clouds. I didn't descend until I was well outside the boundaries of Metropolis.

The land was much more beautiful here in the quiet suburbs and rural areas. I swooped down low, as if surfing over the green hill tops which grew ever larger as I neared the Appalachian mountain range.

The population out there was sparse so far away from the big city, and I didn't notice anyone looking up in the sky watching me. I felt like I had total privacy and freedom and a chance to settle my chaotic feelings. But that all ended when I arrived at Midvale.

There I saw two older women waving at me with both hands. They weren't waving "hello" to me. They were trying to catch my attention. One of the women was calling out, "Help us, Supergirl."

I spiraled down and landed on the 50 yard line of the Midvale High School football field, as the two ladies and a few dozen tittering young men in football gear rushed up to greet me. A moment later they were joined by the kids' parents and other fans, who were scurrying off the bench seats alongside the playing field, to meet the visiting hero.

Everything seemed perfectly normal, almost Norman Rockwell-ish about the scene. The school looked very old, as if from the last century, although the football field was new, with sections still under construction. The only thing that struck me as odd was the music playing on the loudspeakers of the announcement booth, sitting atop the scoreboard.

"What's wrong?" I asked the lady who appeared to be in charge. I assumed that she was the principal of the school. Her name tag said simply: RODIGER.

"Do I have to tell you?" Principle Rodiger sneered, as she glared disapprovingly at my costume, but she was too upset with her own problems to give me grief. "Are you deaf?"

I listened for a moment, but all I could hear was that strange music. I think I heard the song before; maybe one of the strippers at the Kindling Klub danced to it. It had a loud, angry beat, and the lyrics repeated over and over again:

Now ya do what they told ya; you're under control.

"You mean the music?" I asked.

The lady covered her ears dramatically. "Darned right I mean the music! We don't play filth like that at our sporting events. A few delinquents locked themselves in the booth. Those . . . rascals are holding us hostage to this noise! I swear, they'd do anything just to stir up trouble."

I stared at her in disbelief, then I looked around me. Most of the football players were still laughing, but not loud enough to risk earning detention. A few of the parents looked as upset as the principal was, while others smiled in amusement.

This was the happiest group of hostages I'd ever seen.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Well what?" I didn't like where this was heading.

"Well, are you gonna put a stop to this?" She yelled, now as angry at me as she was at the kids.

Damn, I was hoping she wouldn't ask me that. I didn't want to have anything to do with this, but I was trapped. I was angry at this principal for trying to use my powers for her own agenda. This wasn't a job for Supergirl. I was supposed to save lives and stop crimes, not punish some rambunctious kids.

Who was I to punish anyone, anyway? To tell the truth, I admired these kids, whoever they were. They had guts.

But part of my deal with Andrew was that I would help out people in authority, whoever they were. And for that, I was paid $800 per day.

As I walked to the announcement booth, I listened to the words of that song again:

Now ya do what they told ya; you're under control.

Not me, I thought. I may do what they tell me, but I'm not under control.

"Why don't you just fly up there?" Principal Rodiger complained, as we stood directly under the scoreboard. She covered her ears as if the song was physically hurting her. "What are you smiling at?"

I didn't answer. I was lost in thought, as I stared at the only entrance to the newly constructed booth -- a scaffold which hung out over the football field. The floor was made of widely spaced metal links. I wondered how the hell I was gonna get inside without everyone in the football field seeing up my skirt.

***

This was hardly a new problem for me. It was a problem I always enjoyed solving, and when it got too easy, I compensated by shortening my skirt, until finally, I simply couldn't shorten it any more. If I wasn't wearing my cape, my ass would be partially exposed when I walked. So, of course, I shortened my cape as well. If one of these curious teenagers ducked, they'd find me out. I was surprised they didn't try.

It was all part of a game I played -- a game that drove Clark and Andrew crazy. Every month or two, I changed my costume slightly. I wanted to test the limits, and see just how far I could go.

After experimenting with various, ever shortening skirt and cape lengths, I worked on the upper part of my costume, replacing my modest cotton shirt with something so sheer and close-fitting that when I first wore it, many people thought I had tinted my skin and went topless. The corners of the "S" just barely covered my nipples, so technically, I was decent, if not appropriately dressed for all occasions.

While the public was still debating the merits and desirability of my tits, I literally thinned the veil over my pussy as well. I searched far and wide for just the right fabric, until I found a deep red, partially transparent gauze. When I pulled the front of my new miniskirt flat, my pussy was clearly visible behind it, but since the skirt fell in folds, the view was distorted.

Still, it was quite obvious to look at me that I wore nothing underneath. At least *I* thought it was obvious. It would be obvious to anyone seeing me up close.

Then Clark wrote an article, defusing the controversy, somewhat. He claimed that I wore flesh colored panties under my skirt, and he actually used as evidence the fact that no one could see any pubic hair! Under certain lighting conditions, the outline of my pussy lips was visible and was even caught on camera, but Clark dismissed that as a combination of distortion from the skirt, features of my panties, and imaginings of dirty minds.

Of course, some people expressed their dismay that I would encourage dirty minds in the first place with such a suggestive if not obscene costume.

Other people were surprisingly complimentary. The women's magazine "Her Choices" complimented me for my sense of fashion. Apparently, in some circles, exploring the rules was admirable.

***

But as I looked up at the scaffold, I reminded myself that breaking the rules was condemned.

If I tried to enter the booth the normal way, a hundred witnesses would get a long, lingering look at my pussy.

On the other hand, my pussy was aching from thinking about getting caught. If I didn't move quickly, my excitement would be dripping down my thighs and staining my skirt, and I'd be caught that way.

I had to consider a further complication: My excitement level was so high that the crowd around me would be feeling it as well. They probably believed their feelings were based on intuition or that their own dirty minds were getting the better of them. I was utterly exposed to their minds, if not to their eyes. They were already looking at my thighs, suspecting, wondering, anticipating . . .

Part of me savored the moment. I closed my eyes and absorbed the attention. The primal beat from the offending music only added to my debauchery, which seemed to know no bounds.

But part of me did feel some shame. I knew I could wait no longer. I squeezed my thighs together and hovered up to the scaffold, hoping for the best. Someone might catch a glimpse of my ass, but after a few days, Clark and Andrew would have the public believing that the reported ass sighting was really just a weather balloon.

The door to the observation booth was locked from the inside, but even in my weakened condition, I broke the lock in just a few seconds. I hurried inside and closed the door behind me.

***

The two villains cringed in the far corner of the tiny booth, just five feet away, and they stared at me as I entered. They were both 15 or 16 years old. Not quite boys. Not quite men, though each of them were taller than me. They were totally confused. They glared at me with a hatred they felt towards all authority, while at the same time, the bulges in their pants told me they recognized my status as a hot babe.

One of the teenagers was naked except for a slight bathing suit and a row of rings in his ear. The other wore torn jeans and looked a lot like a young Dennis Rodman. By contrast, my own clothing didn't seem so extreme.

"Leave us alone!" demanded the Rodman look-alike. "We haven't hurt anyone."

"Do you mind if I turn down the music?" I asked, looking at the large amplifier in the middle of the tiny room, trying to decide which of the many knobs was the volume control.

In a panic, they threw their bodies in front of the amp, guarding it like a sacred relic. I stepped back in surprise. Their eyes glinted with a religious fervor as they turned up the volume and chanted along with the lyrics of the song.

"FUCK YOU, I WON"T DO WHAT YA TELL ME!"

"FUCK YOU, I WON"T DO WHAT YA TELL ME!"

"FUCK YOU, I WON"T DO WHAT YA TELL ME!"

. . . over and over, gaining strength and conviction each time . . .

. . . until I found the plug and pulled it from the wall.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I want to talk with you. I really like your song, by the way. That was 'Rage Against The Machine', right?"

They looked at each other in shock that any adult would recognize "their" song, much less like it. I could almost see them thinking: Hey, this babe's got good taste.

I held my hand out to them. "Maybe I should start again. Hi there, I'm Supergirl."

"Name's Mark," said the young man with the ear rings, as he shook my hand. His eyes never met mine. He couldn't get them off of my body. He breathed in my scent in one long breath.

I felt my body react, and I had the strange sensation as if the tiny room was shrinking even smaller. I had to remind myself that he was just a kid.

"And I'm Curt," said the other with the orange hair. His eyes drifted down. I thought he was looking at my breasts, but then he said, "Is that where the vampire bit you?"

I shivered. I wished he *had* been looking at my breasts -- I was used to that. But I wasn't prepared for the way he was looking at my neck. I had almost forgotten about everything that had happened the past few days, and now the memories flooded back. Memories of Jim tearing into my throat. Memories of that IV line invading my body.

I nodded. My heart was beating way too fast.

"Pissa!" yelled Mark, with all the sensitivity of Beavis or Butthead. "Can I see?"

My heart skipped a beat. I had the same feeling a car driver might have if she turned the wrong way down a one way street. But I didn't slam on the brakes.

I tossed my hair aside and pulled back the collar of my cape, revealing the two bright pink spots on my neck. Mark and Curt gawked at the symbol of my weakness. My knees trembled, and then I realized I wasn't ready for this. My emotions ran deeper than I thought. I felt completely exposed, like I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt like I had opened up my very soul. It was terrifying, embarrassing, and very exciting. My pussy was so swollen, it actually hurt. If Mark and Curt weren't so entranced by my scars, they might have seen several drops running down my thigh.

But my excitement was contagious, and they couldn't help but feel my heat. I learned from my job as a stripper that I was never horny alone. Even men who said "she's not my type" could barely keep their dicks in their pants when I danced on stage. My psychic impulses and my super-natural feminine scents carpet bombed their defenses, pounding them into submission.

What chance did these boys have? They were just learning how to handle those feelings. So I couldn't blame them for what they were about to do. I had to accept the responsibility for their actions.

"It's getting really hot in here," I said, as I leaned into them. They nodded in agreement. I could barely stand on my own, and the boys were all too eager to hold me up. I felt Mark's hand slipping under my thigh from behind.

I slipped away from their groping hands and reached for the door. I thought my best plan of action was to get them out of the observation booth and then get the hell away from Midvale before the flames burned out of control.

As I opened the door, I felt Curt's arm wrap around me from behind, seeking out my breast. I brushed his hand away. I was so distracted that I forgot to prepare my skirt as we stepped out onto the scaffold. So ended the controversy over whether I wore panties or not, as a hundred witnesses got an eye full.

But all sorts of new controversies would start over what happened next.

Curt and Mark were burning with passion for me, but when they saw the school principal staring up at them, their passion combined with rage. I never did find out what their gripe was with the principal or the school, but I became an integral part of their revenge.

Before I could fly off and end this public relations nightmare with a minimum of damage, Curt wrapped his arms around me and tore open the "S" in my costume, exposing both breasts.

If I flew away even then, the damage would have been minimal. The public would realize that I didn't break the rules -- these kids did. *If* I flew away, that is.

I stood completely still and closed my eyes, awash in the attention, as though this were a performance at the Kindling Klub. But I knew this was so much bigger than that. I was breaking all the rules. At long last, all the lies were finally shattered. Wasn't this what I had always wanted? I had slipped out from under Clark's and Andrew's control. God, was I messed up! I actually thought this was a good thing!

I wanted to just tear off my clothes and all my inhibitions, but I was paralyzed. I was too terrified to give, but I was ripe for the taking.

I threw my head back as Curt planted his lips over the scars on my neck, teasing them with his tongue, as he kneaded my breasts with his soft, inexperienced hands. He pulled me off balance, and I lifted my leg in reaction.

Mark tore my flimsy skirt away with one quick yank and tossed it into the crowd. A few football players fought each other to catch it. Then holding my knee up with one hand, Mark sank his fingers deep inside me and opened my pussy wide, as much for show as for his own enjoyment.

I turned my body slightly, so that I could spread my legs wider, and share my need. I resigned myself to whatever might happen next. I was gonna come for all these young men and their parents, and I would enjoy doing it, without even thinking of what it meant to them. My pussy was like wet fire. I was at critical mass. If I went any further . . . meltdown.

Why didn't it feel like an emergency? Why was I turning up the heat?

I heard the principal yelling up from below. "Get down here this instant, young men! Don't make this any worse than it already is!"

Curt stopped kissing my scars and yelled back, right next to my ear: "Fuck you, I won't do what ya tell me!"

I glanced down at Mark, who smiled wickedly as he dropped my leg and abandoned my pussy for a moment. He lowered his bathing suit to his knees and prepared to show me a really good time. His dick was already leaking.

I looked out into the crowd, and I could almost swear I saw my father out there, shaking his head . . .

That's when I finally slammed on the brakes, for what it was worth. This wasn't right. I wasn't making the decisions here. This wasn't my fantasy. This wasn't the message I wanted to send to the world. But more importantly, I was afraid.

Somewhere in my handicapped, lust-ridden body I found the strength to fly away. I flew up high above the clouds, which would be my only clothing until I got home, now that my cape and shoes were all that remained of my costume.

How were Clark and Andrew gonna explain this situation away. Mass hypnosis? Maybe this wasn't as big a deal as it seemed. I laughed nervously. Who was I kidding? How could it be any worse? At least I kept my wig on.

***

"Hi, Linda?" Andrew answered the phone. He sounded a bit hurried. I must have caught him at a bad time.

"Yes, Andy," I said, then paused. I hadn't called him Andy since that night with Selina in Leesburg almost a year ago. We hadn't been on as friendly terms since then. He was my boss, and that was that. But right now I really wanted to be his friend again. "You asked me to call you before I went back to the Kindling Klub, and I'm getting ready to go there tonight."

"Uh . . . " Andy delayed. I must have caught him at a *really* bad time. I could hear him whispering to someone in the background.

"Don't worry about me," I said, suddenly sure that I was being foolish. Why did I even think that we could be friends again? I felt sure that as soon as the news got out about what happened at that school, he would never want anything to do with me again. "I'm heading out right now. Goodbye."

"Wait! Hold on a sec, Linda! Are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean, hell, you just got out of the hospital this morning.."

"I don't know, maybe not," I replied honestly, "but my hormones are going crazy. I'm not thinking straight. I haven't had any release in almost four days. You know me and my appetite. If I don't do something about it, I'll end up fucking the walls."

Andy laughed, "That might be tough to do. Fucking a chair or railing might be more satisfying. Why don't you just do what the rest of us do when we're stuck? Give your hand some exercise."

He knew better than to suggest that, so I ignored his advice. Masturbating was the very worst solution for me. When I came alone, I would sink into the worst kind of the depression. I shivered just thinking about it. Pamela thought it had something to do with my telepathic powers -- that I needed some kind of psychic feedback, as she liked to call it. Or maybe it was purely psychological, rather than psychic. Andy never understood that, or maybe he just didn't believe it.

"I really have to go tonight," I insisted, choking on my words. I could barely talk. "I can't keep making mistakes by trying to keep my feelings bottled up."

"Keep making mistakes? Did something happen already, Linda?"

Suddenly I started crying. I didn't realize how distressed I was until just then. I was terrified that I had already blown everything. Tomorrow, whatever respect Andrew or Clark might have had for me would be gone. All of Earth would wish me dead, so they could spit on my grave.

"Hey, Linda? You there?" Andy asked.

I nodded, forgetting that I was talking on the phone. He sounded concerned, and that made me feel a little better.

"Listen, Linda, it's OK. We'll meet you at the Kindling Klub in a half hour. Okay???"

"Yes, thanks," I said, while wiping my tears away, and I hung up the phone.

I took off my wig and cape and the remains of my shirt. I stood naked in front of my mirror and saw myself as if from a distance. I watched my pussy swelling and oozing, like it had a mind of its own. My nipples were hard as steel, just waiting to be touched. The scars on my neck were red and on fire. My whole body was flushed with blood and tingled like a live wire.

For the longest time, I was rebelling against Andrew and Clark, but I didn't realize that my real master was this body. I always obeyed it's will and fed it's insatiable appetites, and now it had led me to ruin.

I shattered the mirror with my fist. Seven years of bad luck didn't sound so bad, knowing my life was already over.

***

"Where the fuck have you been?" Lou, the owner of the Kindling Klub (and my other boss) spat as soon as I entered the building.

"I was sick the past couple of nights," I replied.

"Too sick to call in?"

"I was *really* sick," I insisted. "I'm sorry."

"Jeez, you know you and that fucking vampire really screwed me this weekend?" The boss waving his finger in my face like a gun. "We lost a shit-load of money!"

I slapped his hand away from my face. "Listen, Louis, I said I was sorry, but I really was sick. If you want to fire me, then just fire me."

My boss just glared for several seconds. He was so pissed that I thought he really might do it, but he had just enough intelligence to hold back. "You're on the side stage tonight. Get to work."

That was the only way he dared punish me. The side stages meant less control, fewer customers, and less money. I could barely move much less dance on the five foot square table. While I didn't feel up to center stage tonight, I still took offense.

I stormed past him, past the bar, straight to the dressing room. I slammed the door behind me and paused in the middle of the room, closing my eyes. I felt my emotions boiling over.

What did I expect, anyway? Lou was a real asshole. He never really liked me. He just liked the money I brought in.

Oh, no you don't, Linda! I closed my eyes and shook my head. You aren't gonna cry here! Not over this! It's time to take command of your emotions. Stop being a slave!

"Are you OK, Linda?"

I was so upset, I hadn't noticed Tina standing there, just a few feet away, applying her make-up. We were not friends. My success as a stripper often came at her expense and at the expense of the other strippers, so her show of concern surprised me. I must have seemed in really sorry shape to bring out her kind side.

I nodded. "I'm OK, thanks. It's just that . . . that bastard! He's stuck me on the side stages tonight."

"Oh, that's all? Now you know how the rest of us feel most of the time." Tina said laughing, but then she put her hand gently on my shoulder. "But really, don't get so upset, the side stages aren't that bad. And everybody knows you're the best; you'll be back in the spotlight tomorrow night."

I felt my anxiety melt when Tina touched me, and I knew she could feel my reaction. I could see the confusion in her eyes. I've learned to recognize that look. People never know quite what to think when they've just read my mind.

"Thank you. You've made me feel a lot better," I said with a smile and a sigh of relief.

"You're . . . welcome," she stammered, before heading for the door, suddenly in a hurry.

I was rather surprised myself, not so much that she read my mind but that just feeling her touch could ease so much of the pain and loneliness I was feeling. Was this evidence of that psychic feedback that Pam talked about? Or perhaps I just underestimated the power of normal human touch and how much I needed to feel appreciated.

It occurred to me that's really why I came here tonight. My body was aching to have sex, but I didn't have to go on stage to fill that need. I needed something deeper, something more emotional. Maybe I was sick for feeling this way, but my fans always made me feel loved and appreciated.

But how loving and appreciative would they be if I greeted them looking like this? I thought as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn't remember ever looking so tired and pale. Apparently the secret to my beauty was in my Kryptonian blood.

A five minute hot shower put the color back in my skin, and a touch of makeup helped liven me up -- and hide the scars on my neck.

Then, after squeezing my body into a bathing suit that made my former Supergirl costume seem like a Sunday school dress by comparison, I smiled at myself in the mirror.

I thought that if I could just smile, I could forget the disaster in Midvale. If I could just dance, I could forget all about tomorrow.

I was ready to perform. I opened the dressing room door and headed for my stage.

***

I wasn't ready.

I stopped dead in my tracks ten feet away from the stage, but it was too late. Andrew was waiting for me at the side stage, as he promised me over the phone. But he brought Clark, Brian and Selina with him, which I didn't expect. We noticed each other at the same instant.

What was going on?

They knew! Of course, they knew, I thought. How could I be so stupid! Andrew had all kinds of intelligence at his disposal. Clark was a reporter for a major paper. Brian had his police connections. It wouldn't take an hour for a school principal in Midvale to call the police or the Daily Planet.

My body went aquiver, right down to my bare feet. Were my friends all ganging up on me? Were they here to arrest me?

I took a step back as they approached. I was on the edge of panic. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?" Selina frowned. "My, do you look like a cat in the corner.

That's exactly how I felt. I stood paralyzed as she reached out to me, hypnotized by the twinkling of her diamond necklace. She was overdressed in a stunningly beautiful black silk dress and four inch heels. She towered over me. When she touched my cheek, I leaned into her, to feel her embrace and to seek her protection from the wrath I feared was imminent.

"You're not playing fair, sweetie," she said, stroking my hair with one hand and holding me close with the other. "You know I have a soft spot in my heart for helpless looking strays. That vampire really must have scared you."

I looked up at her hopefully. "Is that why you are all here? Because of the vampire?"

"Mmmm, yes and no," she said with a sly smile, and her hand slid down from my shoulder to rest suggestively on my hip. "Andy invited me out to a comedy club tonight. You know Andy -- he's either trying to get me in jail or get me in bed. Anyway, I was about to turn him down, when you called. Watching you strip sounds like so much more fun than listening to some buffoon do Eddie Murphy, and besides, Andy's pretty useless in bed without you around."

Andrew glared at Selina. "Will you get your mind off pussies and cats already? We are here to catch a vampire, not for the sex show."

"Blah, blah, blah, vampires. Just another man pretending to be a rodent pretending to be a bird. Don't worry, Lin, I've dealt with these bat-men before," Selina reassured me, as she slid her hand over my ass.

"She wouldn't have to worry, if she'd just keep her pants on," Clark muttered, staring at Selina's hand. "And you aren't helping."

Brian cut in, "You don't have to worry anyway, Cupcake. He won't even get close to you. We've got cops near every entrance, armed with holy water and wooden stakes. We think if he strikes at all, he'll strike tonight. He won't be able to resist for very long. He hasn't fed in over eighty hours. "

Clark finally looked at me. I could feel his anger, but I didn't know if it was directed at me or at Jim. "If he sneaks in somehow, I won't need any stakes to pummel his sorry ass. Whether it's your Kryptonian blood or your Kryptonian pussy he craves, he won't getting any. I'll rip his heart out first, and ask him questions later."

I wondered if he was trying to make me feel better or worse.

"He can't help what he is," I said, then paused as Selina's finger tips lightly stroked up my spine. "He couldn't control his hunger. Why don't we just put him in jail, where he can't hurt anyone?"

Brian's eyes opened wide in shock. " How can you feel sorry for him, after what he did to you? He certainly didn't give you the same consideration. He's not even human, therefor he has no rights. We ought to destroy him while we have the chance, in my opinion."

"Hey, Linda!" yelled Louis, my boss, from halfway across the club. "You were called on stage five minutes ago. Get the fuck up there."

***

This was very strange and awkward. Standing on the stage, my first thought was to cover myself, not to throw off what little clothing I had on. I felt shy at the weirdest times.

Undressing before friends was harder than undressing before strangers, especially when one of those friends was like a brother or a cousin to me. Especially when that one friend might never forgive me for the things I've done.

But just being on stage started my juices flowing. I felt naughty at the weirdest times, too.

Maybe that was because Selina could barely keep her hands off me since we met, and now that I was on stage, she was pondering me like I was catnip.

I looked at her, away from Clark, as I unclasped my bra, leaving it dangling in the air, as I covered my tits with both hands. It was a typical stripper pose, though I covered them out of embarrassment rather than for effect. My nipples were very hard, like twin rubies.

I tried to ignore Clark, and what he was thinking about me, and what he would think about me tomorrow, as I set my breasts free.

Likewise, Clark was trying to ignore me. He chatted with Andrew and Brian, as if I wasn't there.

How could we ignore each other? He was sitting at the edge of the tiny stage. He was watching me out of the corners of his eyes. I could feel it. Didn't he know that I could read his mind, too? I could sense him smelling me. We listened to each others' hearts as they raced.

If I could feel his reluctant yet firm attention, no doubt he could feel me igniting in reaction. He could see my skin blushing with his mind -- he didn't need his eyes.

Still, Clark pretended I wasn't there. He was staring at Andrew, arguing passionately that Holy Water would never work against a vampire. It couldn't put out his fire.

I pretended to pretend he wasn't there, but he was foremost on my mind and he knew it. I gazed past Selina at the flashing colored lights, as I peeled away my bikini bottom, wondering if Clark and Andrew were watching.

They were. They stopped talking. I stopped breathing. Selina purred.

I closed my eyes, and I saw what Clark was seeing. All of his attention was focused on one drop, hanging from my pussy lips, like a little boy watching ice cream drip from a cone.

I could feel him getting harder. He could see me getting wetter.

And for one brief moment, we both knew exactly what the other wanted.

All I could hear was the song playing on center stage. Tina's song. Something by the Police -- a popular band in this club. Sting was singing, "I'll be wrapped around your finger."

Mmmm, that sounded like a good idea. My inhibitions were burning up in flames. I kicked the damp bikini bottom into Selina's lap, then pivoted on one foot, landing on my knees with my ass facing Clark. I spread my legs slightly, so I could peek at him from between, like looking under a bridge. That's what Brian and some of the guys called it: The bridge pose. I traced inside the arch with my fingertips, starting with my ankle, quickly past my calves, then slowing over my inner thigh, and settling on my wet pussy lips. Clark was looking right at me, right at my fingertip, imagining that my finger was his finger, imagining that my finger was his tongue, imagining that my finger was his dick. I closed my eyes and opened my mind. I let his imagination guide my finger.

He started off slowly, gliding around my sex like he was learning to use a Ouija board. His touch was light as a feather, as he traveled from my asshole, around my triangle, spreading my juices in his path, until he found direction, and fastened onto my clit.

I took a quick breath, as my belly trembled. Clark could sense the flood starting in my core before it flowed from my pussy lips. I could feel Clark's mouth watering. The sensation was so strong, it was like I could taste his mouth. He raised his hands to touch me, to join his fingers with mine.

My hand jerked, as if in reflex, and then I felt two fingers, his or mine, it didn't matter, plunging deep inside me, trying to fill me. I cried out, "Oh, yes!"

My legs collapsed, and I tumbled over onto my back, with my feet falling off the edge of the table, to either side of Clark's shoulders

"Linda's bridge is falling down," I whispered, giggling. It was a bad pun that usually earned smiles from my audience. But this wasn't my usual audience, and it just sounded stupid at the moment.

Clark's eyes were ravenous and his hands were trembling, as he stared at my pussy shining up at him, like dinner was just served. Is everything to your liking, Sir? Do you like it rare? I opened my pussy with two fingers, showing him how pink and tender and juicy I was inside. Do you like it alive? Be careful, the food is very hot! "Oh..." I sighed, reaching out to Clark with my other hand. I wanted to be the best meal he ever had.

But I was pushing him too hard, and I could feel him pulling away.

"She wants you," whispered Brian in Clark's ear. "Go ahead."

I could almost hear a door slamming shut, as Clark glared at Brian.

In one second, the heat of his desire turned to anger. The power of his emotion hit me like an explosion. He grabbed my legs and pushed me back several feet on the stage. Any normal woman would have been injured by the tightness of his grip or the impact of his attack. He did no harm to my bones or my flesh, but the intense wave of his fury collapsed on me, crushing my heart like a vice. I rolled onto my stomach and closed my eyes.

"Hey! Settle down!" Andrew and Selina said at once to Clark.

I could feel his stare burning my back. I could feel his anger marching through my mind, now that I had let him inside, trampling out my thoughts.

"Hey, Clark, snap out of it!" Andrew said.

I felt for the edge of the stage with my hands, afraid that I might fall off.

After several seconds, Clark replied, "I'm . . . I'm alright."

I pulled my knees up to my chest. I heard a new song playing on center stage. I tried think of the words. I tried to hum the music.

"Hey, sugar-cookie, you OK ?" asked Brian.

I shook my head, not knowing how I felt.

Selina climbed up on the stage and sat down beside me. When I didn't move, she whispered in my ear. "Did he really hurt you?" She held my shoulders and pulled me up into her embrace.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Clark staring at me. He was still fuming.

Tears streamed from my eyes, as an upwelling of pain and fears tore into me, replacing the shock, and I wept in Selina's arms like a child.

No one spoke for a long time, until Clark finally said without a trace of anger in his voice, "Common Kara, don't cry, I'll help you off this stage." He reached out to take my hand.

I slapped his hand away and yelled so loud that everyone in the bar could hear, but in a language only Clark could understand. "You want to help me, Kal-El? You only want to help me do what you want me to do. You want me to give up my life and stop embarrassing you. You want me to hide from the world. You don't care what I want."

"You don't know what you want!" Clark yelled back.

Several patrons of the club were migrating to the tiny side stage, curious about the commotion. Andrew was visibly concerned. "Now, Linda," he said firmly. "You are upset. Don't say or do anything you'll regret in the morning."

I buried my face in Selina's shoulder. "It doesn't matter what I do now. None of it matters. I'll never be able to show my face or look at any of you again."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked.

"You did something major today, didn't you?" Andrew asked, with a touch of fear in his voice. His eyes opened wide with shock as he looked into my mind.

"Shhh, don't worry about it," Selina whispered as she pulled me up and coddled me. She held me gently and stroked my hair, petting me like I was one of her cats. Until one of her hands landed on my breast and teased my nipples.

I squirmed. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh, just relax," she whispered. "Trust me."

Selina turned my body so that I was facing my friends, and trapped one of my legs between hers, exposing my pussy and my tears, not just to my friends but to a dozen other onlookers as well. I felt like jumping up and running away, but then suddenly I could barely see, as Selina covered my eyes with her hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked more urgently.

"You said you couldn't show your face to us anymore, " she said playfully, sounding less like a friend and more like a enemy. She uncovered my eyes, and reached down my body with her hands, pinching one of my nipples with one hand, while the other pulled on my knee and felt down my thigh. "None of us came here to see your face, anyway."

"Are you going crazy?" I asked, stopping her hand before it got wet, when her other hand caught me by surprise, diving right into my pussy. "Oh, please, this . . . Clark is looking . . ."

The Catwoman purred, "I thought you said nothing mattered anymore. So why not just lean back . . ."

She slid out from behind me, and laid my back on the hard wood . . .

"open wide . . ."

She dilated my pussy lips . . .

"and relax . . ."

She kissed me full on the mouth, preventing any further objection . . .

"forget Clark, forget tomorrow . . ."

She made forgetting easy, when she filled my mouth with her tongue and took my breath away. I couldn't feel Clark's angry stare. The only thing that scared me now was that Selina's fingers would stop before I came. The only sound I could hear was Tina's music in the background, putting me under a spell.

Mick Jagger was singing: There’s a girl who once had me down, under my thumb...

Selina hovered over me sideways, kissing me while squeezing my breasts. I started to close my legs, but she grabbed my knee and whispered: "Let them look."

There’s a girl who once pushed me around, Under my thumb...

Then Selina got up on her knees and lifted her dress over her head, completely naked underneath, except for her necklace and shoes. Her body was very different from mine, with fuller breasts, longer limbs, and a thin, black bush. She looked so beautiful, more like a super-woman than I did.

It’s down to me, the difference in the clothes she wears, down to me...

"Now you've been such a baby, I'm gonna treat you like one," she said, as she straddled me, her pussy against my belly. "Now suck on these." She lowered her nipples to my face, and I wrapped my lips and my arms around her, pulling her close.

The change has come, she’s, Under my thumb...

"Keep your legs open," she commanded, and she turned to face the crowd that had gathered. "What do you guys need, a written invitation?"

Under my thumb, Is a girl who’s just changed her ways...

She didn't need to tell them twice. Two hands grabbed my legs, while someone else attacked my pussy like a wolf, with his tongue and teeth. I cried out, on the verge of coming.

"Oh, stop crying," Selina complained. "Aren't my breasts enough for you? Let go of me, and lie down."

The way she does just what she’s told, down to me . . .

Selina crawled over my body, I closed my eyes, as her bush tickled my face and my nose slid into her damp cave. "This is what you want, isn't it?" She grabbed me by the hair and stuffed my face in her pussy.

Under my thumb, Is a Siamese cat of a girl . . .

She purred as I burrowed inside, filling her with my tongue, sucking on her lips, drinking her nectar.

With my free hand, I grabbed the hair of the man between my legs, and pulled him in tight, wanting to drown him in my juices.

Under my thumb, She’s the sweetest pet in the world. . .

Then everything got very confusing. I felt hands and lips swarming over me, licking, squeezing, biting. Someone grabbed Selina, pulled her off of me, and climbed on top of her, while someone else pulled my ass over the edge of the stage and turned me over, and pierced me from behind.

I could barely hear the music anymore over the groans and heavy breathing and Selina singing out in pleasure. All I could see for several seconds was hands and brief glimses of men's faces. I closed my eyes.

And then I was dragged completely off the stage, onto the seats, and I was being fucked from every direction, and twisted in unnatural positions. Men were pulling on my legs like I was a wishbone, while one lucky man plunged inside.

Someone else grabbed my head off the seat, and pressed his dick to my cheek. I opened my mouth, and took him inside. He pumped my face, while someone pumped me at the other end, and a third person sucked on my nipples, and a fourth sucked on my big toes. I felt someone's tongue on my neck, tickling my scar, pushing me over the edge. A jolt of pleasure shot through my body like electricity. I moaned and spasmed and my mind exploded with psychic energy.

At the same time, Selina's song reached a crescendo. One anonymous dick slammed against my throat and erupted, while another sprayed in my pussy. Someone even came on my breasts, as I shared the most intense orgasm I'd ever had with everyone around me.

Followed a moment later by an orgasm far more intense, as I felt my body yanked through the air. My face fell onto the seats, cum dripping from my mouth, and a dick crashing into me from behind. I think I cried out either in pain or pleasure, as this dick of steel drove into my cervix, and his hips slammed into my ass, faster and faster, until my body felt like it was ripping apart.

I screamed.

***

Then all I could see was a bright light, like a flash, as my heart seemed to stop, and my body dissolved in extreme pleasure, fading into oblivion.

I was floating in space, surrounded with warmth and peace, like a cat on a window sill, basking in sunlight. That's how I felt. The world was gone, and I was just "there", somewhere, nowhere, full of light and warmth and love. I felt free and safe.

Then a form took shape in the light. A voice spoke my name, my true name, and I melted into a tear.

"Daddy!" I exclaimed with a smile, but I shivered nervously.

He stepped out of the light and embraced me. "My dear Kara, what's wrong? Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy, but I . . . I failed you."

He smiled at me. "You couldn't possibly fail me. What ever gave you such a crazy idea?"

"I . . . didn't keep my clothes on. I couldn't have failed any worse. I took them off in public, in front of a hundred witnesses. And please forgive me, but I even tried to seduce Kal-El." I held to my father tightly, and prepared myself for his wrath.

Which never came.

"Oh, Kara, you never would listen to me. You offer your love to the most callous strangers. Your skin is invulnerable, yet somehow you always find a way to get hurt. I only want what's best for you, my daughter, but if you won't take my advice, at least take my love, and try to be happy."

I looked up into his eyes. "So you forgive me?"

"Stop worrying about me. Forgive yourself."

***

I woke up to the sound of Calvin complaining that he was hungry. Rolling over in bed, I glanced at the silent alarm clock beside my bed. It was 11:55, almost noon.

My mind was in a daze, and it wasn't the usual daze that follows a long slumber. I couldn't remember anything that happened last night.

I looked down at myself, and my confusion grew. The blankets were tucked in around me, though I usually just pull them over my body. I was wearing a nightgown, though I always slept in the nude.

But I felt really good. I mean, *damn* good, like I was still asleep, and dreaming that wonderful dream . . . what was it about? The memory was fading already.

Then I noticed how sore my ass was, and I had a slight bump on my head. Memories of last night flickered in my brain, like still photos. I cringed when I saw Clark's face, glaring at me. Then I smiled when I thought about Selina. I laughed when I remembered coming, and feeling my body covered with . . .

I opened my gown and looked at my chest and belly, but I was clean, as though I had just bathed. How could this be? How did I even get home last night?

The last thing I remembered was . . . I wasn't sure. I remembered having the most intense orgasm I ever had -- or could even imagine having.

I stepped out of bed and walked into the kitchen, with Calvin trailing behind me. I saw cups half full of coffee sitting on the kitchen table. Something else happened yesterday. What was it?

I poured some cat chow in a bowl. "Hmm, you sure are hungry," I said. Calvin rubbed up against my legs, licking his teeth in anticipation. He looked up at me eagerly.

He was looking right up my gown.

I stumbled backwards and dropped the plastic bowl. The cat food scattered on the floor. Calvin streaked into the other room and hid, forgetting his hunger, while my memories of yesterday flooded back.

I paced nervously into the living room and switched on the TV. I bit my fingernails, as the old set warmed up.

The sound came on first, with the voice of the news anchor:

" . . . the Girl of Steel in a whole new light. Several parents toted cameras and camcorders to the Midvale football game, recording the entire event. I should warn you, these images are quite graphic. Here with us today is Doctor Richard Johnson, an expert on comparative physiology?"

"Thank you, Jack," began a new voice. "These images may be disturbing, but they are a boon to our understanding of Kryptonian physiology."

The black TV screen lit up with an image of me teetering on the edge of the scaffold, with Curt's arms around me. The camera zoomed in as Curt tore away my shirt, exposing both breasts and squeezing them in his hands. I nearly fell off my seat. The image wasn't fuzzy or bouncing around, as was the footage from a few days ago, when I was being carried to the ambulance. I could even see the little bumps around my areolas. I watched myself throw my head back, offering up my throat in an unmistakable gesture of passion. The two scars were plainly visible on my neck, before Curt covered them with his mouth.

Suddenly the camera looked down, and I couldn't breathe as I saw my leg being lifted in the air, and Mark tearing away my skirt, showing me in all my dripping, aching glory. The video kept on rolling, but now in slow motion, as Mark's fingers pressed into me, rubbing my clit, like it was the spigot of a fountain, sending my juices gushing over his hand and down my thigh.

The video slowed down to a still frame.

"Here we see Supergirl's vulva," said the doctor, as if anyone had any doubts. "Notice the complete lack of hair around the labia or anywhere on her body, for that matter. We can't even see any follicles, suggesting that the hair was removed at the source, or perhaps that Kryptonian females lack body hair by nature. Also notice the slight tissue swelling here and here, and the extreme flow of vaginal juices, far beyond that of an ordinary woman, suggestive of an enhanced sexual response. As we move in closer . . ."

The video switched to slow motion, as Mark brought both hands into the action, grabbing my pussy lips between his fingers and opening me up wide. Then the low resolution video tape image was replaced by a high resolution photograph from a slightly different angle. The entire screen was filled with my open hole.

I was feeling dizzy. Even I hadn't seen my pussy in such detail before, and now the whole world was seeing the most intimate parts of me during their lunch break.

This wasn't possible. I couldn't be seeing this.

A pointer panned over the photograph, and settled in the middle. "Notice these tiny pink folds draped over the vaginal tract, and the smooth contour leading up to the labia. All typically human in size, shape and color, as are the clitoris and anus, which we will see in next slide -- there. Gynecologically speaking, Supergirl is just like any of you women out there, except that her sexual organs operate in overdrive. I hesitate to guess how this might affect her psychologically."

I started breathing again when the video stopped, and the anchor was back on the screen, front and center, adjusting his tie, but maintaining a straight face. "Thank you doctor. Now we take you to Midvale where we have an exclusive interview with Mark Kupperberg, whose fingers you just saw in the last three slides. Mark, we know that Supergirl looks like a normal woman, but we also know that she has that invulnerable skin. We are all wondering, what does she feel like?"

Mark's face was one big smile. "She was totally hot, and her [bleep] was dripping . . ."

"Yes, yes," Jack cut in, "but we can't use language like that on television. Could you describe her in more polite terms."

Mark stared at the camera quizzically. "Well, she . . . uh . . . uh . . . smelled really good."

I shut off the TV, unable to watch anymore, and I started laughing in bewilderment. Either I was going insane or the world was.

"It's not quite what you expected, is it?" said a voice from behind me. I spun around to see Andrew standing at the front door. He was wearing the same suit that he wore at the bar last night, and I could see from his eyes that he hadn't slept last night. "When did you wake up?"

"Just a few minutes ago. I think I woke up, anyway, and I didn't just dream what I saw."

Andrew shook his head. "Nope, it was real, and if you think that was a trip, take a look at the front page of the Daily Planet."

He dropped it in my lap. The headline read. "SUPERGIRL EXPOSED", with a black & white photo of me taking flight, wearing only my cape. Clark wrote the story. I read the first paragraph:

"MIDVALE: Yesterday afternoon, Supergirl offered the world a brief glimpse into Kryptonian biology, while at the same time demonstrating a power she had kept secret until now -- a super-sex drive."

I laughed with tears in my eyes, and asked Andrew. "Would you please tell me what's going on? "

Andrew smiled as he flopped on the sofa beside me. "Damage control. The public relations equivalent to the Hail Mary pass. After what happened yesterday and last night, we didn't have any other options. We threw up a prayer, and it seems to be working so far."

"What are you talking about? What happened last night, anyway?"

""What is the last thing you remember?"

"You know," I shifted in my seat and smiled despite my anxiety. "In the bar. I remember making love with Selina, when things got a little crazy and turned into an orgy. Men were climbing all over me. Then they were cumming all over me. Makes me wet just thinking about it. But then something really intense happened. Someone attacked me like an animal." A shiver ran down my spine. "Oh, my God! Was it Jim?"

Andrew was surprised. "Jim? The vampire? No, no, Jim never showed up last night. In fact, there were no suspicious murders throughout all of Metropolis. It's been several days now without incident, and I'm thinking that Jim may have skipped town. No, the person who attacked you last night was Clark."

"Clark?" I repeated his name in a whisper, as I thought about what he did to me. My ass was so sore, just sitting felt uncomfortable.

"Yeah, the mild mannered reporter really lost it," Andrew said casually, as he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. "O'Neil has been telling me for some time about those shows you put on -- about how you magically seduce your audience, with both your body and your mind. But putting you and Clark together was like mixing fuel and fire, and the rest of us were caught in the psychic flames, including some of the other dancers. Clark somehow held it all inside him, but when you came, it set him off, and he just exploded, throwing everyone aside as he went for you. No one saw what happened next. It was like a tornado tore through the club. When things finally settled, everyone saw Clark standing over you, his glasses crushed on the floor, his suit torn open with the 'S' revealed, and his red shorts down around his knees."

I covered my mouth. "Oh, no! This is terrible! He must want to kill me."

"Actually, that's exactly what we thought he did. You two were at opposite ends of the power spectrum. He experienced a power surge at the same time that you lost all of yours. In the end, you were lying on top of a wrecked bench seat with a bump to your head and no pulse. You gave us all a terrible scare for the second time this week. But after a minute or two, your pulse miraculously returned, and you were breathing regularly again.

"Then things got really weird," Andrew continued, and took a long drag from his cigarette. "We left O'Neil to clean things up as best he could in the club, while Clark, Selina and I drove you home. With you resting safely in her arms, Selina began raving about what a great time she had, and how she wanted to do it again sometime soon. Well, you know Selina. Clark's problems didn't mean a thing to her. He was just a 'big party-pooper' -- those were her words.

"Clark and I went over the facts, trying to come up with some kind of strategy. You know, maybe we could cover it up. Many of the club patrons were cops, and they were the only people who recognized Clark Kent. If we could just keep them in line, we might be able to preserve his secret identity. But dozens of other witnesses had already left the club, and no doubt were running around, blabbering about how Superman fucked a stripper to death.

"And just when things didn't seem like they could get any worse, I got a call on my cellular from the agency," Andrew smiled and shook his head. He took my hand in his and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you Linda for making my life so interesting. Apparently dozens of eye witnesses were carrying photographs and videos of you-know-what to the networks, and NBC had just decided to show the videos on the morning show."

I interrupted him. "Is that legal? How could they do that?"

"Supposedly, it's totally legal because, according to the law, you and Clark aren't human. I know it sounds silly, but it has been a convenient loophole that is now firmly rooted in law. It allows you to arrest criminals without having to stand trial or go through the usual legal process. But it also frees you from the decency laws. The same laws that apply to animals apply to you, so you can stroll down the streets of Metropolis naked and piss on fire hydrants, if you want.

"The networks were going crazy. They had all this video of you -- some of the most erotic footage ever filmed, and legally it was fair game, as long as they purported to be educating the public, rather than serving some prurient interests."

"Mmm, I like that word. Prurient," I said with a smile. I squeezed his hand gently and leaned into him.

Andrew smiled back a little uncomfortably, and he moved his hand onto my knee. "You should like it. It describes you in a nutshell. Your prurient interests are causing a rage throughout the media. Almost every network is now showing the video. Tomorrow, they'll be arguing about whether they did the right thing. Then next week, the public will be taking sides. Some people will start taking off their clothes in public, following your example, thinking: 'If Supergirl can do it, why can't I?' A few months from now, the supreme court will probably have to re-evaluate all the decency laws. All because of your prurient interests, and a media governed by competition rather than common sense."

"So that's why Clark was writing about my 'super-sex' drive?" I asked in disbelief. "Because of competition from other newspapers?"

"No, that was my idea. Damage control. It means you weren't responsible for your actions, that you couldn't control yourself. After what I'd seen last night, it's clear no one in your psychic range can control themselves, either. In a few days, Superman will probably be in the same boat, having to explain why he lost control with a stripper."

"So," I began nervously, afraid to look at Andrew. "You guys aren't angry at me?"

Andrew shook his head, as his hand moved up my thigh a few inches. "Now why would we be angry? Just because both of your secret identities are in jeopardy? Just because the SSA will probably fire me over this? Just because you've made a mockery of the constitution?"

I shrank away from him, as his hand caressed my inner thigh, saying something very different from his words. "Are you sure you aren't angry?"

He put out his cigarette and pulled my feet up onto his lap. "Let me put it this way. Last week I attended a public demonstration for a group of Nazis in Gotham, because the constitution lets them show their hate to the world, in all its ugliness. I felt terrible, but it was part of my job to defend their rights."

"I don't understand," I replied, as I rubbed the bulge in his pants with my toes.

"What I'm saying is that I'd rather defend your right to show your love to the world, in all it's glorious beauty." Andrew opened up my gown and stared at my already glistening pussy.

"Is that what this is?" I asked, as I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and showcased myself for him with my fingertips. "Is this love?"

Andrew pushed my legs apart and kneeled on the floor between them.

"Maybe not love. But I still want to defend your right to show your prurient interests to the world. I've been watching the news all morning, just thinking about defending your rights."

I giggled and then moaned as his tongue slipped inside me. I buried my fingers in his hair. "Oh, please, defend my rights!"


	8. Somewhere on the Circle of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Supergirl doesn't know if she's coming or going, when a witch named Zatanna puts her under a spell
>> 
>> _you come out at night_  
>  _that's when the energy comes_  
>  _and the dark side's light_  
>  _and the vampires roam ..._  
>  _oh you're so beautiful_  
>  _with an edge and a charm_  
>  _but so careful_  
>  _when I'm in your arms_  
>  \-- _Building a Mystery_  
>  \--Sarah McLachlan  
>   
>   
> 

 

 

       A young witch, dressed all in black, sat inside her circle at the very heart of Salem, Massachusetts, looking up at the stars. Her name was Zatanna.

       Although Zatanna was her given name, many of her friends assumed she chose the name at initiation, when she first became a witch.  Others assumed far worse things.

       A few years ago, when she was still in high school, a teacher typed "Zatanna" into a word processor. The dumb machine choked on her name, thinking it misspelled, and replaced it with the name Satan. From that moment on, the buzz around town was that Zatanna had named herself after the Christian Devil. To most people, this was simply a joke, but others saw it as a warning from Heaven. She had received three death threats so far.

       People never changed, and fear never faded away, even in a city that today welcomed witches with open arms.  Someone was always ready to lash out at anyone different from the norm -- different even from other witches. Any suggestion of Satanism, no matter how far fetched, was as good as a conviction.

       This controversy earned her a spot on a local talk show. The host suggested she change her name to something normal, something Christian, to prove her good will to the people of Salem. She retorted that she would rather cut off her hand than disgrace her existence. "My name is my power."

       This mysterious statement turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophesy. It caught fire on a slow news day, making the headlines of the local paper, and sound bites on TV news updates. To her enemies, this statement only proved her allegiance to the devil. To the local covens, it made her a hero.

       But to Zatanna, it was simply the truth. Words and names had power beyond what people realized. Sometimes, only the right word will do the trick. The headlines. The sound bites. They weren't just random words. They weren't just clever combinations. They were spells. Magic.

       Common magic, though. Like cards up a sleeve. Like the flicker of a candle. That kind of magic lasts five minutes, then it's gone. So Zatanna had something to prove. She was not a show magician. She was not a witch only at Halloween time. Her time had not come and gone -- she was just getting started.

       When she was done, she would command the essence of life and love, and she would offer it up to the world. Who would dare attack her name then?

       Zatanna sat alone in her circle, concentrating her energy, summoning the Sun's Beloved, as the modern goddess was known in the Craft.  Zatanna would succeed alone where the combined energy of many covens had failed before.  They were all fools, Zatanna thought with a sly smile. They fumbled with magic like a toy. One focused woman could be more powerful than a dozen poorly prepared covens. Magic was a precise art, requiring the right tools and the right words. Zatanna always had the right words, but finally, with a little help, she had acquired the necessary ingredients.

       She searched all of Salem before deciding on the most obvious place to set up her circle:  in the pagoda, at the center of Salem Common.  She came here every day for two weeks, when the sun set in the horizon, and the moon shined alone in the night sky. But tonight the sky was black, except for the stars, as the moon was new. She sat in the circle, surrounded by five candles, two red, two blue, one yellow, and stared up through the pillars of the pagoda at the stars. As strange as it seemed, the moon was the key to summoning the Sun's Beloved. The moon was the forgotten element, the essence that the goddess yearned for, and needed, to be complete.

       Zatanna placed a photograph of the goddess at the center of the circle, the most intimate photograph that she could find. She touched the image with a strand of the goddess's own hair, and she sprinkled a few particles of the goddess's dried blood over the glossy likeness of her body. Then Zatanna closed her eyes, and chanted in an ancient language:  "Arak snus devoleb ot males emoc."

 ***

       "Linda," she replied when asked her name, but then she hesitated.

       "Last name?" the lady behind the counter asked impatiently.

       Linda was caught off guard. She wasn't good at names. She should have put some thought into this before now, because whatever name she chose, she'd have to stick with it for a while, maybe even for the rest of her life. She wanted something credible, something meaningful, not something anonymous like Smith. She looked quickly at the wall behind the lady, where there hung an engraving with two lists of names, all of them victims of the Salem witch trials of 1692. She picked the first name.

       "Danvers, " She replied suddenly, and then she put the two names together, to see how it sounded. "Linda Danvers."

       The lady's face lit up. "Oh, like the town? That's an unusual name. Any history behind it?"

       Linda glanced again at the engraving. At the top of each list was the town or city where the victims lived. Oh, good one, Linda, you just named yourself after a town.

       "I guess you could say that."

       The lady glanced at her quizzically, then started typing into her computer again. "And how long will you be staying at the Hawthorne Hotel?"

       Again, Linda paused. Even these simple questions were more than she could handle right now. "How long _can_ I stay?"

       This earned a frown and a sigh. "The best I can do is a week. Are you sure you can afford it? Any reasonable-sized room will cost $120 per night."

       Linda nodded. Andrew's assignments had paid her well, and she had accumulated a small nest egg in her savings account. She could last a year, even at these inflated rates. "Oh, one other thing -- do you allow pets?"

       The lady threw her hands in the air. "You're kidding, right?"

       Linda leaned over. When she stood up again, she was holding a small patched cat in her arms. "His name is Calvin," Linda said with a smile.

       The lady smiled back mockingly. "Are you sure? Listen, Ms  . . . Danvers,  this is a Hotel, not an apartment building."

       "But I feel like I belong here," Linda pushed, knowing she sounded crazy. "Why can't I rent a room with my cat? He won't be any trouble."

       The lady was near the end of her patience, but she collected herself. She glanced around and said in a soft voice. "It's against hotel policy, but maybe if you hid the cat in a box or something . . ."

       Linda shook her head vehemently and turned away. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. We don't belong here."

       The lady shook her head. "Sheesh, some people..." she whispered, then went back to typing at her computer.

 ***

 

       Linda put Calvin on the floor. Several people watched as she exited the hotel, with Calvin at her heels. Apparently, it was quite uncommon to walk a cat, especially without a leash.

       But Calvin and Linda had a special kind of bond you don't often see between pets and their masters. For one thing, Calvin respected Linda. He knew from experience that he could not escape or hide from his super-master. He knew from the psychic connection between them that he could trust her. He could sense her thoughts, even if he couldn't understand what she was thinking. He wanted to follow her everywhere.

       Still, Linda had to keep an eye on him as they entered a crowded sidewalk, alongside a busy street. She led him across the street to a large park near the hotel, which was all but deserted. It was a good place to just walk around and think.

       Think about what led her here.

       So much had happened in the past three weeks, since the incident at the football field. Incident -- that was a comfortable choice of words. A euphemism. She would never get over this if she hid behind comfortable thoughts, belittling the horror of what she had done. Face up to it, girl, as her college friend Mary would have told her. It had been three weeks since you lost all respect for yourself, for your friends, for the world, when you got up on a stage and acted like a bitch in heat, for all the world to see.

       Linda shivered. She couldn't swallow the guilt. She rationalized that she didn't take off her clothes; someone else did that for her. And she didn't broadcast those images over all the world; that was the media's doing.

       But even if she didn't commit the crime alone, Linda knew that she was an accomplice. And what scared Linda the most was that she wasn't entirely ashamed. Part of her had always ached for this kind of attention. She had appeased this perverse hunger with small indulgences. At first, not wearing panties or a bra was enough. Then she wore tiny skirts, and tight tops. But these indulgences merely increased her perverse appetite, leading her into several sexual adventures and a secret life as an exotic dancer, where she had sated her passions, until her palate grew wilder.

       Linda felt dizzy and she leaned against a tree. Her shame and stress was like poison in her body. She fell to her knees and retched, trying to evacuate her burdened soul, but she could get no relief. As much as she hated to admit it, the poison was a part of her. She had always been a shy girl, afraid of attention, yet she never hid from it. She had always hated crowds -- unless they were watching her. In fact, she would probably be a shut-in, if not for the attention her body craved.  Now this hunger inside her had grown into a sex monster, and it was too much for her to handle the contradiction.

       It was also too much for the world to handle. For the past several years, parents pointed to Supergirl as a model for their daughters. She was powerful, she was beautiful, she was special. Linda mistakenly thought that she was like a celebrity, but she didn't quite understand until a few weeks ago -- until Andrew explained it to her: Supergirl was not a person, as far as the world was concerned.

       Supergirl was an animal, a girl of steel, an alien, an angel, an icon of femininity, a demon, a Siren, a goddess. For several years, she and Superman were glorified in the press as the embodiment of Truth, Justice and the American Way.

       So when that embodiment stood before the world, stark naked, exuding raw sexuality, America struggled to find meaning in her act. Was she the Whore of Babylon or the Goddess of Love? Was she an example to follow or to condemn? Would fucking her be like heaven or hell?

       Andrew predicted the chaos and confusion that followed. Hundreds of women and girls, inspired by Supergirl, saw fit to walk the streets of Metropolis nude or semi-nude. Miniskirts were suddenly back in fashion with a vengeance, especially among teenagers, who were turning Supergirl's unveiling on a football field into a ritual. The public enthusiastically assigned to Supergirl blame or credit, while the media poked at the tinder, sending the flames higher. One newscaster proclaimed that Supergirl would either raise eroticism to respectability, or she would be destroyed by her own sexuality. Only time would tell.

       Linda tried to hide until the craze blew over, if it ever did, but the media hunted her like hungry wolves, following a trail that led from the Kindling Klub to her home.

       Linda Lee died that Tuesday, when her life story was told on the network news. The anchors interviewed her professors from college ("Linda was a quiet but bright student"), and some of the people she hung around with ("Yeah, I did her").

       Now Linda felt as lost and alone as when she first arrived on Earth, and none of her friends could help her. Even worse, they actually seemed afraid of her.

       Clark called her on the phone, to give her comfort and forgiveness for everything she had done, but he wasn't out of danger himself, and he couldn't risk being seen with her.

       Linda moved in with Andrew for a several days, before the SSA began pressuring him to turn her in. He told her: "I've done all I can do, but now you need to disappear for a while. Find an apartment somewhere, preferably outside the city. Stay away from the media, and eventually things will return to normal."

       She doubted things would ever seem normal again, but she packed up some clothes and took Calvin with her, in search of a new home. She didn't even tell Andrew or Clark where she was going. She didn't want to be a burden or to seek their protection. She didn't feel she deserved friends like them.

       Wherever she went, she was afraid that someone would recognize her. No one could watch TV, buy a magazine or surf the net without seeing her face, or another part of her body. Changing her hair color wasn't enough anymore. For once, her shy personality won out over the exhibitionist, and she wore a long skirt, brown boots and a loose sweater. A pair of sunglasses and a 70's style hairdo completed the disguise. Linda Danvers looked more like a school teacher than a sex goddess. Her public image was so much larger than life, yet she was in reality a rather slight woman. A few people stared for more than a second or two, but no one confronted her.

       She was feeling quite down and without hope, as she entered a train station. There were departures heading north, south, east and west. She wanted to leave Metropolis, and she didn't care where, but she couldn't decide. She needed a plan. She just sat down on a bench inside the station, petting Calvin, while she watched a giant TV in the company of a hundred other people. They were waiting for a ride, she was waiting for inspiration -- a voice to tell her where to go.

       The TV was set to Cable Network News, and of course, Supergirl was always the lead story. Linda covered her face, as CNN presented a picture of herself she hadn't seen before. Apparently, one of Linda Lee's fans snapped her picture at the Kindling Klub a few months back. Linda was bent over, while a cop pushed his billy club into her pussy. The photo was quite fuzzy, and her face was just barely visible, but Linda was the only dancer to ever perform stunts like that. It was her.

       One woman sitting near Linda said: "Jeez, just look at that whore..."

       And everyone did look. As long as people continued to watch, the networks would search for new pictures to show, and show the old pictures again, just in case someone awoke from a coma and hadn't seen them yet. The networks had the opportunity to legally show a naked woman on television, and they would make the most of it until the law changed, or people stopped watching, or they ran out of pictures.

       The current segment expounded on religious perspectives concerning Supergirl's sexuality. The anchor was interviewing a minister from Metropolis, a rabbi from Gotham, and a self-proclaimed witch from Salem.

       The rabbi was indifferent to the craze, cracking jokes, and saying this was a non-news item. "Let's get back to the real issues, like what are we gonna do about the raging vigilante problem?"

       The minister said that Supergirl was a lost soul who needed saving. "Jesus is the savior of humans and Kryptonians alike. The real evil lies in news shows like this . . ."

       "Thank you Reverend," the anchor cut in. "And now, would you enlighten us with the Wiccan perspective, Zatanna?"

       The camera zoomed in on a young lady, with a backdrop of the Hawthorne Hotel. Zatanna wore a black silken top; her hardened nipples peeked through the fabric. Her black tights were ultra sheer, with an embedded fishnet pattern. She wasn't wearing any underwear, but the fishnet hid the details. A month ago, her clothing would have been considered daring in the least. Today, no one raised an eyebrow.

       Zatanna spoke without a smile, and the dark eye shadow she wore had an eerie effect. "You are all skirting the issue, as though you are afraid of something. You are afraid of the feelings inside you, because you don't know what they mean. You don't understand that itching, that need to see more, that hope to feel more. You can pretend that you aren't affected, but you can't stop thinking about her. Kara from Krypton has done far more than undress before you. She has put the world under a spell."

       "Oh, rubbish," the woman sitting near Linda at the train station muttered. "I've had enough of this filth. Why don't they . . ." Her voice trailed off, as she squinted at the TV screen and shook her head.  It was yet another XXX picture of Linda performing at the Kindling Klub.

       Linda looked around her, and she saw that Zatanna was right! All eyes were glued to the screen. All faces, men and women, had a blank, anxious glint in their eyes. They needed to see more, and Linda doubted that the authenticity of the photo mattered, as long as they thought they were seeing Supergirl.

       And Zatanna knew! She knew what was going on! Linda's heart leaped and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of direction and hope.  She got her ass off the bench and bought the first ticket to Boston, and took the subway from there to Salem.

       Now, hours later, she felt stupid, coming here with nothing planned, and no place to stay. Did she get her hopes up for no reason? What if she couldn't even find this "Zatanna" woman ? What if she was just a quack?

       She walked around Salem Common at least twice, thinking that she would take that lady at the Hotel up on her offer -- to sneak Calvin in unnoticed -- when a dim, flickering light caught Linda's attention. She stood perfectly still, caught between fear and hope. The light was coming from the pagoda at the center of the park, like a lighthouse over an ocean of darkness ...

 ***

 

       Zatanna sat cross-legged, and stared into the flame of a candle. The image of the Sun's Beloved was etched in her mind, and she no longer needed the photograph to focus her energy. She scried into the flickering fire and saw the future.

       The goddess was near. Zatanna could feel her.

       She rubbed her fingers together, mixing the dried blood and strands of hair together, and touched her lips. "Arak emoc," she cried out, swaying her head, exposing her neck to the darkness, as she licked the goddess' seasoning from her finger tips.  Her hand fell from her lips to her chest and swept over her body in clockwise circles. Her other hand fell into her lap, and her finger snaked through a secret entrance in her tights. "Oh, arak emoc!"

       Zatanna collapsed and lay sprawled out within her circle, sweat on her brow and a smile on her face. Her message had gotten through. She was sure of it. But she wasn't expecting an answer to her calling so soon.

       She opened her eyes and stared through the structure's portal at the twinkling stars hanging over Salem's night sky. A form climbed the pagoda's steps, blocking her view. Zatanna drew her legs tightly together and propped herself onto an elbow. For a moment, she doubted herself -- after all, she had never summoned a goddess before. The figure standing over her was an earthly Salemite, no doubt. A mere passerby. Another witch, or a friend. A police officer, who had been alerted to her pagan rituals.

       A moment of silence passed, and Zatanna could feel the personal energy around the silhouette. It was awesome. And Zatanna doubted herself. Who was she to contact a goddess? Who was she to command such power? If Zatanna hesitated any longer, the goddess might fly away. Who was she? How could she forget her own name! She was Zatanna!

       In one quick move, she was on her feet, eye to eye with the Sun's Beloved. Zatanna raised her chin high. She wasn't a tall woman, but even in bare feet, she was two inches taller than the goddess. Her confidence soared.

       Linda's eyes lit up with recognition, and then looked away in embarrassment when she considered what Zatanna was doing within her circle. She could smell Zatanna's excitement in the air, and see the proof: a dark stain between Zatanna's legs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see you doing ... that. I was looking for. . ." Linda's voice trailed off in uncertainty.

       Zatanna put a hand on Linda's shoulder, immobilizing her, as Zatanna finished Linda's thought: "You were looking for the truth, weren't you? So why look away now in shame? What you saw was the truth. Passion. Desire. Feelings you are familiar with. Feelings you exude with every breath."

       "No!" Linda shook her head, trying to deny it. "I don't want that any more."

       Zatanna smiled. "You want it, but you are afraid. You are afraid to let the goddess in you loose. You are afraid of your potential. You are afraid of losing control. But you were never in control, were you? There was always some amateur recklessly playing with the fire. But I'm no amateur. In the right hands, you'll be very user-friendly."

       Linda was like a computer mouse under Zatanna's finger tips. With no force at all, Zatanna's dragged Linda into her circle and backed her into the railing of the pagoda.

       "You know me?" Linda asked, shivering under Zatanna's fingertips, she felt her body reacting against her will. Was Zatanna telling the truth, and Linda had no will at all?

       Zatanna's fingers moved up from Linda's shoulder to frame her face and familiarize herself with Linda's software. "I know you better than you know yourself."

       "Who am I?" Linda asked desperately, shying away from Zatanna's probing eyes.

       Zatanna touched Linda's dyed, permed hair, and replied, "You know who you are, but you are hiding."  Zatanna shook her head disapprovingly as her fingers surfed over Linda's heavy sweater and long woolen skirt.

       "* **What** * am I?" Linda pleaded, while staring into Zatanna's hypnotic eyes. Linda felt like she was falling, so she grabbed the railing for support.

       "You know what you are, " Zatanna whispered as her hand dove beneath Linda's skirt and dragged up her thigh. "You can pretend you don't know, but underneath, you don't even try to hide. Soft, wet, hot, and naked. You are fire, and a fire cannot control itself. Do you really want to know what you are? Let me show you."

       Zatanna's finger found Linda's button and double clicked.

       "Arak otni sannataz smra peels. Ot flesruoy rednerrus."

 ***

 

       At the Daily Planet, Clark Kent kept his office locked. He paced around anxiously, filled with worry, after Andrew called about an hour ago. Linda had left without a trace. He mentioned that she was very upset. He said he would call back when his agents found her again. That was five hours ago.

       "Damn you, Linda," Clark muttered under his breath, almost as angry as he was worried. After everything he had done for Linda over the years, she had never given him a moment of peace. In his twisted state of mind, he could only remember the screw-ups. It was almost like she was trying to destroy herself. The Cuban fiasco. The skirt-flirting. The exhibition in Midvale. The definitive performance at the Kindling Klub; she almost took Clark down with her in that disaster.

       What if she went that final step towards self-destruction? That's what scared him the most. She had been feeling terribly lost and confused lately -- who knew what she would do?

       And how would Clark live with himself? Maybe he should have told her something. Maybe he could have done more for her, if he just opened up to her, instead of acting like a big brother all the time.

       "Damn you Linda," he repeated, "for making me care so much."

       The phone rang on his desk.

       "Kent," he answered sharply.

       "I'm at the hospital," Andrew replied.

       Clark's heart stopped in fear. Then it skipped a beat, and he fell against the desk when Andrew finished what he had to say.

 ***

      

       Linda awoke to a furry paw batting in her face and a worried meow.

       She opened her eyes slowly and smiled like she might to a crying child. "Oh, hi there, boy. What's wrong?" she whispered, and rubbed Calvin on the scruff.

       Then her smile dropped as she looked around her.

       "Oh, here we go again!" she exclaimed while sitting up, realizing that she didn't have a clue to where she was. She didn't even know if it was night or day. "Why can't I ever sleep without the whole world changing around me?"

       She was lying naked on a circular bed of black furs and black sheets. She was confused for a moment, because she didn't exactly feel naked. She didn't exactly feel clothed, either. Her body glowed like satin, and she felt warm, like she was lying in the sunlight. Then she understood. Someone had anointed her body with oils while she had slept, and had rubbed it into her skin. Someone had done a very thorough job, she noted, as she examined between her toes and even the crack of her ass.  Her hair was moist, but not with oil. Someone had washed the dye from her hair, returning it to it's natural blonde.

       Mirrors surrounded the room, and when she looked up at the ceiling, she was looking down at herself. Her body glowed like a heavenly body against the black background. Like a jem on display. Like a fire in the night.

       Ok, she decided, this is just a little too strange. She stepped out of bed and looked around for her clothes. No such luck. The small room didn't even have a bureau or a closet. The room was empty, except for the circular bed, a fold-up chair, and a small bedside table, covered with vials, bowls, candles and a well-worn leather bound book titled: Book of Shadows.

       Linda leafed through the pages briefly, finding various references to oils and magical stones, and a whole section handwritten in a language she couldn't understand. She carefully closed the book and positioned it exactly as she found it.

       She turned her attention to the vials, which contained clear liquids with the slightest hint of color and strong scents. Each vial was identified by a small white label. Some labels were falling off. Others were discolored, so the words penciled on them were almost unreadable. Linda squinted and sounded out the words aloud. "Vanilla . . . Musk . . . Dragon's blood?"

       "Oils," a voice said, startling her. Zatanna was standing at the entrance to the room, which was merely a curtain. "It's just an exotic name. We didn't kill a dragon to get it. What are you doing out of bed?" Zatanna made a subtle hand gesture and said. "Arak no elcric yal. Ot flesruoy rednerrus."

       Calvin lept from the bed, as Linda settled on the furs and lay on her back. Unconsciously, she parted her legs and showcased her body. Consciously, she asked, "Where are my clothes?"

       Zatanna shrugged, as she moved closer. "They didn't suit you. You've spent so much time hiding behind clothes and costumes, while the goddess within you wanted to get out. This is all you'll want for clothing and a costume from now on."

       Zatanna held a stunning necklace in her hand. The chain of delicate gold links led to an ornament with a golden pentagram shaped base. A single tiny diamond accented each of the five corners, and the red sunstones mounted within formed a pattern. It was a variation on her costume's S-symbol.

       Linda lifted her head from the bed and shivered, as Zatanna put the gift around her neck. Her whole body reacted, and she couldn't understand why. She felt very warm inside. Maybe she was feeling gratitude? "Thank you," she replied. "But I can't accept this. It's too expensive."

       "You have already accepted it," Zatanna said with a smile and an admiring glance. "Cost doesn't matter, as long as it's the right gift. The right gift to the right goddess."

       Linda giggled, feeling like this was a game. "Goddess? Why did you call me that? I am not a goddess. You are the one with all the power. I'm just laying here. What kind of goddess does that make me?"

       "The reluctant kind." Zatanna moved closer to Linda, and she felt her confidence waver. "The kind that stumbles into her own fate."

       Linda bit her lip in anticipation, as Zatanna dipped her hand into a bowl of oil and drew tiny circles around Linda's nipples with her dripping fingertips. Linda held her breath. Weakly, in the back of her mind, she argued with herself. She sensed that she was a prisoner here, if not by force then by mind control. Maybe she should resist. But there was something in these oils that excited her skin, awakening her passion, stealing her will; Linda reached out to push Zatanna away, before her will was completely gone. But rather than pushing her away, Linda found herself feeling Zatanna's body through her silk blouse. She urged Zatanna closer. Linda wasn't losing her will at all; she was losing her resistance.

       Zatanna's hands were shaking. Linda could see the reaction in Zatanna's eyes, mirroring her own. "How can you think that you don't have any power over me?" Zatanna whispered passionately, as she kneeled one knee on the bed, and drained the remaining oil from the bowl onto Linda's breasts. "Can't you hear it in my voice?"

       Yes, Linda could hear her passion. And that made Linda feel weaker and burn with a growing energy. Zatanna had all the control, while Linda lay paralyzed. Or so it seemed.

       Zatanna touched Linda's cheek with one hand, while her other hand massaged Linda's breasts, rubbing the oil into her already saturated skin, sliding over her sleek belly, caressing down her side, pausing over her hips, then stroking up her thighs on the inside, towards her pussy. "Can't you feel it in my fingers?"

       Linda's eyes were tiny slits, as she parted her thighs. Her pussy was already soaked, not needing any oil for lubrication. Zatanna's fingers hovered just inches from the target, before pulling away.

       Linda squirmed and arched her back in torturous desire. "No, please don't stop..."

       But Zatanna wasn't trying to tease Linda.  Zatanna lifted her blouse over her head, breaking eye contact for barely a second or two. Her hair, which was perfectly combed, was now in disarray. Her eyes, once steady, now could barely focus. She pushed her tights down to the floor and stepped out of them. Her pussy was hairless and wet, just like Linda's. "Don't you get it yet?"

       She climbed on top of Linda and kissed her lips to lips, breast to breast, and legs intertwined. "I'm just feeding the fire," Zatanna whispered, between kisses, as she descended down Linda's body, kissing, tasting and sucking along the way. The aroma and the piquancy of the oils excited an ancient part of Zatanna's mind. She put her seasoned fingers in Linda's mouth. Linda's hips bucked in reaction, as Zatanna led her goddess to her primal source.

       "You are the keeper of the fire," Zatanna breathed the words out, as she climbed down off the bed. She kneeled before Linda's burning pussy and told: "If you cover a fire, it will go out. But if you feed a fire enough..."

       Linda screamed, and her legs wrapped around Zatanna's shoulders, pulling her in tight, as Zatanna stoked the fire with her tongue. The flame was expanding from her core. She squirmed under the heat, while the rest of her body ached to be touched. She was like a torch, covered in oil, bursting into flames. Zatanna's hands pushed the flames up her body, squeezing her breasts, while fanning the fire at it's source.

       Then finally, as Linda's mind disappeared, she understood. There was no limit to her passion. If you feed a fire enough, it would keep on growing and growing, until...

       But just before Zatanna could fan the flames beyond control, a voice from outside the room stunted her magic.

       "Hello in there!" The voice yelled. "I smell sex and candy. Are you sneaking into the cookie jar?"

       Zatanna was shocked back into awareness, tearing her psyche from Linda's.

       "Oh, no! Don't stop now!" Linda cried out, writhing as if in pain, when Zatanna pulled away. Linda's body was left burning without a flame, snuffing out her sexual energies in a discharge of smoke.

       Zatanna struggled to collect herself. She climbed into the bed with Linda, held her gently and brought her down from her sexual high. She stared into Linda's eyes until Linda's gaze was steady and her mind was coherent. Then Zatanna said: "Dnoyeb siht eripmav kool. Enoemos wen teem."

 ***

 

       Sun and moon. Life and death. Passion and emptiness. Whenever these opposites meet, nature succumbs to magic. The elements open, and akasha is set free.

       Most people today didn't believe in magic, even when they saw it for their own eyes. Even when humans flew in the air, they would not believe in magic. Instead, they built a science around the untapped energy in ordinary sunlight to explain human flight in physical terms.  They called her a Super-girl, rather than see the truth.

       But a witch knew magic when she saw it. The Sun's love energized His beloved, not the Sun's ultra-violet rays. And the rhythm of the moon set her passion free. This was common knowledge among witches since Kara first arrived on Earth. By mentioning her name in a ritual or contemplating her image in the circle, the witches invoked Kara's passion into their own lives.

       Yet the world at large was blind to her erotic powers, even while her sexuality had sweeping effects on their everyday lives. During the goddess' first five years, sex therapists reported a dramatic drop in Sexual Arousal Disorders, attributing the change to "causes unknown". As Supergirl's costume grew slighter and more revealing, popular fashion followed the same direction, yet the public saw Supergirl as riding a fashion wave rather than causing it. A recent survey done by _Her Choices_ magazine ranked Supergirl the "sexiest woman alive" by the widest margin in the history of the survey, prompting some feminists to condemn Supergirl, since she equated a woman's power with her sex appeal. Others hailed her for exactly the same reason.

       The world simply didn't get it.

       Then a few weeks ago, a "mysterious event" occurred in the vicinity of Metropolis, with smaller effects vibrating world-wide. The country awoke from it's sleep in a sweat. Some people reported waking from a nightmare, while others awoke from an orgasm. A few short hours later, the world learned that Supergirl nearly died at the teeth of a vampire. That news dominated the media, and the psychic response was mostly ignored as something in league with UFO sightings, leaving it for the radical magazines to explore. But no one quite understood what had happened.

       No one except Zatanna, who immediately made the connection. Sun and the moon. Life and death. The ingredients to magic. And the timing couldn't be better.

       She spent the next several nights chanting at the moon, summoning the vampire, with no success. The police in Metropolis eventually reported that the vampire was presumed dead, and like a fool Zatanna believed it.

       Then one night, when the moon was full, Zatanna awoke to a dark figure standing over her bed. His skin was heavily tanned from exposure to sunlight, yet the life-giving blood he had taken from the Sun's Beloved had sustained him. Kara's blood was running thin in his veins, and his hunger for her grew day by day. He demanded Zatanna's help.

       Zatanna first cowered in fear and suspicion of the power she had summoned. But the vampire, like the goddess, couldn't comprehend his own destiny. He felt the power between himself and Kara, like a nuclear reaction. He felt the need for her flowing through his veins. But he didn't understand their potential. If somehow Zatanna could control the situation, the power and the good she could do would be incalculable.

 ***

 

       He was just a silhouette when he entered the room, with the sun blazing in from behind him, partially eclipsed by his body. But when he removed his hood and his cloak, Linda saw his strangely familiar face. Dark hair. Dark hungry eyes.  Seeing him sent her emotions into a tailspin, spiraling down and deep. Seeing him made her writhe in fear and made her want to puke. This was a very severe reaction to seeing someone she didn't even know.

       Maybe it wasn't him making her feel that way. Maybe she was experiencing withdrawal from the orgasm Zatanna had denied her. She grabbed Zatanna and held tightly to her. "Oh, why did you stop? I was almost..." Linda started, and then her body shook violently. Backing off from an orgasm was harder for Linda than for most people, but it had never been _this_ hard before. Something else was bothering her.

       "Is she OK?" the man asked Zatanna, concern in his eyes...

       Zatanna shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe I brought her down too fast. Maybe I put too much energy in motion to slam on the brakes like that."

       "Why were you fucking her in the first place? I thought the plan was to wait," he spat out, his fangs showing.

       Linda didn't notice. In fact, she was feeling so bad just then, she barely noticed that they were even talking about her.

       "I underestimated her sexual powers," Zatanna replied. "I didn't realize how powerful we had made her. I thought I could handle it, but when she got hot, I just lost it."

       "I warned you," the man glared at Zatanna. "You aren't taking this seriously enough."

       "Hey, I'm sorry, but she was so hot, _no one_ could have resisted her just then. Even her cat looked like he was walking in catnip," Zatanna shot back, laughing. Then her smile fell, and she held Linda close to her. "Now the passion is gone. Funny how her mood changes everything."

       The man's eyes softened on Linda, who still felt awful. Her brow was covered with sweat, and she could barely understand a word they were saying. "She looks like she's really suffering," he said to Zatanna. "Linda told me once that she needed some kind of psychic feedback from sex. Maybe you should have removed that charm you gave her and finished her off."

       Zatanna shook her head vehemently. "Now, you're the one who's not taking this seriously enough. We have only one chance to do this right. The time is near, and she's at her peak energy. Her body is ready to burn, but we need to get her flame started again."

       "Should be a piece of cake for a super-witch like you, right?" he said with not a little skepticism. "You must have brought something along to spark the girl's desire. Aphrodisiacs. Wine. Chocolate."

       "No chocolate for me, thank you." Linda spoke up, laughing and wincing at the same time. She was amused by the way they were discussing her emotions, as though her feelings were as malleable as clay. Maybe they were, because just the thought of sickly sweet chocolate made her feel even sicker.

       "We can do much better than that," Zatanna said, rolling her eyes at the man's ignorance. She reached onto the table behind her and produced a jar marked 'Damiana'. She took a leaf from the jar and handed it to him. "Try this instead, and put a little of yourself into it."

       He glanced at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

       "Do I have to spell it out for you?" Zatanna patted the sheets beside Linda, indicating that he should join the two naked women in the circle. "Feed it to her, and remember, the magic is in you, not in the leaf."

       Linda watched him nervously, her heart racing with fear, and her belly complaining angrily. Without thinking, she shielded her throat with her fingertips, as the man sat on the bed beside her.

       His woolen pants rubbed against her hip, as he leaned over her, holding the leaf to her lips. When he gazed into her eyes, Linda felt the rage in her body changing. When he touched her cheek with his free hand, she parted her lips. He pushed the leaf into her mouth with his finger, and rubbed it against her tongue. Minty, Linda thought, and a little bitter.

       A shiver pulsed through her body. Her heart beat raced in excitement, and her belly ached longingly. She took his hand in hers, trapping his finger in her mouth. Her eyes half closed.  She felt his free hand sliding down from her cheek to her neck. Her hair fell away from the two scars, which even after a month, glowed blood red when Linda was excited. When he touched her scars, she moaned softly, turning her hips towards him, parting her legs, and offering her pink wet pussy to feed the appetite she saw growing in his eyes.

       He was about to accept the invitation, when Zatanna shoved him lightly on the shoulder, smiling, "See what I mean? She turns on in a heartbeat, and once you get her going, and she's impossible to resist."

       He pulled his hand from Linda's mouth and forced himself to look away.

       "No!" Linda cried, reaching for him, needing his touch to keep her from falling again. "Don't stop!"

       "Yes, don't stop," Zatanna concurred, as she stroked Linda's thighs and hips. "We need to keep her excited, but we mustn't lose control of her or ourselves in the process. We can't let her come for another hour, yet."

       "Why not?" Linda objected. She wasn't bothered that they were talking mysteriously about her, or that they were making plans involving her. What bothered her was that those plans did not immediately lead to orgasm. She then bit her lip, as the  man gently squeezed her breasts. Zatanna stroked inside Linda's thigh and rubbed against her gushing pussy. Just a few minutes ago, she was writhing in agony; now she was squirming in desire. She had never been turned on so quickly before. Was this magic, like they said? She spread her legs, welcoming Zatanna's fingers inside, but Zatanna left her hanging, hovering near the flower like a bee, but never exploring inside. Linda groaned in frustration. "Oh, God, what are you doing to me? Why won't you let me come?"

       "Because the time isn't right, yet, " the man replied. "Not for me. And not for you, my sweet goddess."

       "You think I'm a goddess, too? Some kind of sex-goddess?" Linda asked incredulously.  "I'm just a horny super-girl who wants to get laid."

       "And that's all you want out of life?" Zatanna asked her, disappointed. "You have all these powers, and so much to offer the world, yet all you want to do is 'get laid'?"

       "No," Linda defended herself. "I want to use my powers to help people and make them happy, too ... But I have my own needs."

       Zatanna shook her head impatiently. "You don't understand. You think that strength and speed are powers, while passion and sensitivity are needs. Yet they all arise from the same fire inside you. What you are calling needs are actually your greatest powers. "

       "Well, those great powers have destroyed my life!" Linda cried out. She glanced at the mirror on the ceiling and saw the reflection of herself. The oil on her skin made her whole body appear as wet as her pussy. And the reflection was true; that was how she felt. She felt as though her life was taken over by her pussy. She shut her eyes tight. "What good is this fire you keep talking about? The whole world hates me because of it!"

       "That's not true, and you should never be ashamed of the gift you have," the man replied with tenderness in his eyes. He caressed her face. "I was dead before I met you, but you have given me life. That fire doesn't stay inside of you; it touches everyone you share it with."

       "Your feelings touch the whole world," Zatanna continued. "Haven't you read any of the newspapers? Haven't you noticed how the crime rate fell during the hours when you were dancing at the strip bar? Did you ever wonder why no one complained, no matter how revealing your costume got? Or that no one, not even gay men, ever argues about how sexy you are? Did you ever wonder why the whole world squealed in delight, when you finally took it all off on that football field -- or why everyone has been burning in desire ever since to see more?"

       "They've been burning with desire for me?" Linda asked. "I don't know if that's good thing or a bad thing."

       "Like any power, it depends on how you use it," Zatanna answered. "Your body has been sending signals to you all along, yet you've been fighting with yourself, against your body and against your destiny. And those negative feelings vibrate through the whole world. Sometimes people feel frustrated, and they don't know why. Sometimes they feel happy, for no good reason. Now they are dimly aware that you play a role in their lives. They may resent it, and they may envy you, but they are all fascinated. You have captured their consciousness. Isn't that what it means to be a goddess? But with all this power comes responsibility. When something feels good, you have a special obligation to enjoy yourself, and share that feeling with those around you."

       Linda stared wide eyed at Zatanna, as if she was crazy, but everything she had said rang true.

       Linda looked up again at her reflection. Was that the image of a goddess? Her body glowed from within, and her pussy expressed its pleasure at Zatanna's fingertips. The image told the truth, and was that really worse than the other images she gave to the world? She pretended to be so many things, afraid to show the passion inside her, and never wanting to disappoint her friends. But she had never felt as at home with herself as when she danced at the Kindling Klub, sharing herself openly. The passion was all that mattered, then. The feelings of loving and of being loved, even if it was with a stranger. There were no pretenses and no conditions to that love. Just the pure emotion, with nothing held back and nothing hidden. Was that the image of a goddess?

       "Maybe you are right," Linda purred at her naked teacher, starting to see her life in a new light and with a new confidence. While running a finger lightly up Zatanna's thigh, and then pausing to test the waters before dipping in. "Maybe I should enjoy myself and share that feeling with you right now. Won't that be a good thing?"

       Zatanna tensed in anticipation, yet urged Linda's finger away.

       "It will be a much better thing if we wait an hour," the man replied.

       "Why? What happens in an hour?" Linda asked impatiently.

       Zatanna and the man looked at each other, surprised she didn't know. It was the second biggest news story, after Supergirl herself.

       "What happens in an hour?" Zatanna repeated the question with a look of wonder in her eyes. "Why, something that only happens once in a very long time."

 ***

 

       Clark was sitting at his desk, staring at a book called "Legends of the Sun and the Moon."

       It was almost the middle of the day, yet the offices of the Daily Planet were mostly empty. Many reporters were scouring about looking for more dirt to print on Supergirl. Others were preparing for the solar eclipse that would begin in less than an hour, and which was generating more public interest than expected.

       Eclipses, especially total solar eclipses, where the moon blocks the light of the sun, were extremely rare. Most people never see more than one in their lifetime. And the climax, when the eclipse reaches totality, lasts only five minutes. That made it a very special astronomical event.

       And that was also where the media dropped the ball -- by assuming that the phenomenon's appeal was related to science. They underestimated society's superstitious nature.  Solar eclipses played major roles in almost every religion. Many faiths prophesied that an eclipse near the millenium would mark the end of the world. Even the darkness that swept the land when Jesus died was presumed to be a solar eclipse. Eclipses always seemed to accompany amazing events. Often amazing and terrible events.

       Clark closed the book, and rubbed his eyes. Although the subject matter was fascinating, his mind was elsewhere. He had real problems to deal with. He eyes were tired from lack of sleep, as he waited for a call from Andrew or from **_anyone_** , telling him where Linda was. Telling him that Linda was alright.

       She had caused him a world of grief, but he couldn't turn his back on her now. He had felt responsible for her since the day she had first arrived on Earth as a refugee and as an orphan from a dead planet. He had never met anyone who felt so lost and alone. Clark did everything he could to help her and to guide her way, but life had dealt her a particularly cruel hand. She was always struggling just to find some meaning and purpose for her existence, and if she created a little havoc here and there while she searched, Clark couldn't blame her for that.

       And of course, he couldn't blame her for the things **_he_** did to cause havoc. The disaster at the Kindling Klub was as much his fault as hers. He needed to tell her that. He needed to tell her a lot of things.

       Across the office, at the main desk, a phone rang. Clark transferred the call to his desk, since the clerk who usually answered the phone was away.

       "Daily Planet," Clark greeted.

       A woman's voice spoke through static on the other end. Clark picked up on her New England accent. "A major story is about to break in old Salem," the voice spoke quickly, as if by rote. "Send a crew with a camera."

       Clark replied casually. "We don't respond to crank calls. What is this story about, anyway?"

       The voice said something quickly that Clark couldn't understand. The words didn't even sound like English. Then she said, "Let's just say it involves both of today's headlines. This is a message from the Witches of Salem to the world."

       Then the line went dead.

       Clark didn't know what to think, but somehow he knew the call was for real. He looked at today's Daily Planet neatly folded on his desk, and on the first page was a picture of Supergirl.

       Clark touched his brow and shook his head. "Oh, dear Linda, what are you getting into now..."

 ***

 

       "Tell me your most secret fantasy," the man demanded, while torturing Linda with his fingertips, keeping her on the edge. "Tell me what is still taboo and terrifying and virgin. Tell me what you don't want anyone, anywhere to know."

       Linda shook her head, as if fighting the torture. How could he even ask a question like that? But she wanted to tell him. There was something in his eyes and his touch. Something familiar. Something ravenous. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

       "I won't tell a soul," he replied, then he sucked on her nipple, grazing it with his teeth.

       Linda closed her eyes and pulled him in tight. She was too excited to feel fear or caution. "I want to be fucked up the ass," she said with a wicked smile.

       "Oh, you little minx!" he teased, rubbing her asshole with his fingertip.      Linda moaned, while trying to explain. "No one's ever fucked me up the ass before, because, well, it's so tight. But it feels so empty, too. Nothing ever goes in, and nothing ever comes out."

       "Nothing?"

       "There are some private things about my powers I don't like to talk about," Linda replied evasively, trying to think of a gentle way to put it. "My body doesn't make any waste."

       "Oh, no shit?" He replied, startled.

       Linda shrugged, thinking she just weirded him out.

       But she had only made him curious. He climbed between her legs for a better look at this tiny wonder, but with the feast laid out before him, he could barely decide what to taste first. When in doubt, go for the desert, which was melting all over the main course. He licked off the excess. "Mmm, tastes just like peach pie, and your nipples are like strawberries. You smell like . . . I don't know. Damn good! Is there anything about your body that isn't perfect?"

       Linda licked her lips in anticipation. "You tell me."

       "Tell her later," Zatanna said at the door. She had left them alone for just a few minutes, while she made phone calls. She dropped the cellular on the table, and sat beside Linda on the bed. "I knew I couldn't trust the two of you together, especially at a time like this."

       "Oh, please, let him finish me!" Linda cried. They had been torturing her with their restraint for what seemed like an eternity, and she didn't think she could take it much longer.

       "Just hold on a few minutes longer," Zatanna replied, while fondling Linda's breasts and thighs, keeping Linda's sexual energy high. Zatanna was wearing her clothes again, but to very little effect. Her blouse clung to her sweaty body, and her wet pussy glowed behind the fishnets. "Everything is in place. It's almost time."

       Zatanna stared at Linda with an almost crazed look in her eyes. Zatanna's excitement was more than sexual. She was about to get her five minutes of fame.

       Linda's fame would last much longer. She didn't understand it all, but she knew that much. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and she thought about what Zatanna had told her. Linda wished she had more time to decide. She usually regretted decisions made in the heat of passion, but as Zatanna had said, these eclipses occur only once in a very long time.

       "What happens next?" Linda asked, needing reassurance.

       Zatanna closed her eyes and orated, mostly reinforcing what she had said before. "Your body vibrates with the power of the Sun and the passion of the Moon. When those two forces combine, vibrating together, Sun into the Moon, all of that passion and power that has been building up inside you will be set free. Your consciousness will bind the consciousness of the world. Your passion will ignite the passion in us all. Your image will fill our minds. And your sacrifice will make that bond eternal."

       "My image? What sacrifice?" Linda asked, when suddenly she gasped. Her body squirmed involuntarily, as though consumed by a fever, and she felt a dull, throbbing need in the void of her belly. "What's happening?"

       "The Sun and the Moon are touching. It is time to begin."

       Zatanna took her Book Of Shadows from the table, then walked toward the curtain to leave the room. The man donned his cloak and hood, and he followed her.

       "Why are you putting those clothes on? Where are you going?" Linda complained. "Oh, please! Don't leave me alone! Not now!"

       "I would never dream of leaving you alone," Zatanna said, and then she yelled out the door, "OK, take them away!"

       Linda sat up quickly, as sunlight poured into the room, and the walls began to move. If Linda had looked closely at the walls, she would have seen the mirrors were on wheels. In fact, the room wasn't a room at all. It was more like a stall used in a market, or something fortune tellers might use in at a carnival. Within seconds, two large men, each wearing witchcraft symbols, pushed the walls and the ceiling away, and Linda found herself lying naked on the black circle in the middle of Salem Common. Just a few feet behind her were the steps to the pagoda, where she met Zatanna last night. Everywhere else she looked were cameras and hungry eyes.

 ***

 

       For a moment, the crowd was silent. No one had expected this. The witches merely said that Supergirl would make an appearance, and the reporters thought she would just read a prepared statement, expressing her regret over the way she had behaved in recent weeks. That would have been news all by itself, since Supergirl hadn't been seen or heard from in weeks.

       But they wondered about that mysterious black stall, just sitting there in the empty park. Only the witches seemed to know anything about it, and they weren't talking. Nor were they letting anyone get close. Until finally the word was given, and the box opened up, revealing the glistening body of well-oiled Supergirl inside, gleaming like a diamond on a bed of black. An offering to the world.

       The police argued with each other, unsure if they should do anything, as the blonde bombshell explosively disturbed the peace.

       The reporters were much better prepared.

       "Get in closer!" yelled one, determined to get the best photos.

       "I don't care about the fucking eclipse!" yelled another, "Just feed me in live!"

       Antennae pointed at the sky, where the Sun was connecting with the Moon, and satellites were connecting Salem with the rest of the world.

       Clark, dressed as Superman, had just arrived at the scene, and he watched in stunned disbelief.  He didn't know what to think or how to feel. What was going on? Linda had felt so ashamed and apologetic the last time he saw her, yet here she was, redefining the term exhibitionist, relishing in fame or notoriety, whatever may be . He wondered how could it get any worse. But with Linda, anything was possible. He had to save her from herself.

       He marched towards the circle, pushing reporters out of his way, where he was met by Zatanna. "Superman! What are you doing?" she asked him urgently.

       "I'm gonna put a stop to this," he said, never slowing his pace as he answered her.

       But Zatanna forced herself in front of him, catching his attention for just an instant, which was all she needed. "Tiaw thgir ereh! Soon she will understand. The Sun's Beloved must decide her own destiny."

       Superman stopped in his tracks and considered. He didn't have a right to interfere. Maybe Linda would even be upset with him if he tried. Maybe she really wanted this. His shoulders slumped. He felt confused. He felt powerless.

 ***

 

       When the witches pushed the mirrored walls away, they knocked over the table beside the circular bed. It fell over with a loud crash. Then, for a brief moment, complete silence.

       Linda sank into the sheets, as the crowd came to life and charged towards her. Bulbs flashed. Cameras were rolling. One man was leaning a television camera out from within the pagoda, almost directly over her. Others stood just a few feet away, immortalizing the moment. No more teasing. No more skirt flirting. She didn't even have to perform to feed their desire. She just had to be who she was. A contradiction. A jewel that burns from the inside. A mystery that grows when revealed. A shy woman who would capture the attentions of the world.

       Many of the witches in the crowd were celebrating. Some were tearing off their own clothes. Some were kneeling on the ground, as if praying. Praying to their goddess.

       And Linda, who should have been afraid or at least self-conscious, had no more patience for shame. She closed her eyes and took it all in. Her body was on fire. She could feel the passion growing, both their passion and hers, and she wanted to join with them, just as Zatanna had promised. She wanted to bind their consciousness. She wanted to fill their fantasies with images of her.   Her body glowed, not just from the sunlight and the oil, but from a force inside her, leaving her weak, while energizing those around her.

       Zatanna stood before the crowd, holding a microphone in her hand like a magic wand. "Ta arak ezag dna rednow," she said, her voice carrying over the loudspeakers and over the airwaves. "Behold! The body of the goddess! Feast with your eyes! Drink with your hearts!"

       As the crowd ventured closer, Linda spread her legs, welcoming them. She arched her back, so that her breasts perked up into the sunlight. She threw her head to one side, exposing her neck, while she gripped the sheets with her hands. As a stripper, she always sensed when the audience was excited, and that sense was never stronger than it was right now. She knew their eyes were glued to her fingertips, as they slid down her belly, towards her pussy. She felt her audience urging her fingers on.

       Until she wasn't sure who was controlling her hand anymore.

       "Give us a look inside, Supergirl," asked one of a dozen photographers.

       Linda nodded breathlessly and moaned. She held her pussy open between trembling fingertips. Her hips bucked, but she was not even near a plateau, yet. Something was keeping her from coming.

       "Finger-fuck that cunt!" said another breathlessly. "Yes, that's it!"

       Then someone else touched her, very lightly, on the knee.

       Linda squirmed and twisted, like a fish burning on the beach. She was so hot, she could barely see. "Take me," Linda pleaded.

       "What?"

       "Eat me!" Linda cried desperately. "Please, take my body!"

       And they hesitated, not for lack of desire, but they simply weren't ready to partake of the goddess. The world was watching. Their bosses, coworkers, maybe even spouses would be watching, too.

       And everyone watching TV sets around the world were wishing they were in Salem and had the same opportunity. All the rules were thrown out the window at this moment. Later they would wonder if the decision was even theirs to make.

       Finally, someone answered Linda's call. Linda didn't see who it was. She didn't even look. She just felt the stranger's tongue fill the void between her legs, drinking Linda's sweet wine, and setting the celebration in motion. Linda pulled his face in tight and rejoiced at the ministrations of the well trained tongue, which drank deeply from her chalice.

       But the wine only whetted his appetite. "Oh, yes!" Linda cried, as he attacked her pussy with his whole mouth, licking, sucking, even biting, while squeezing her ass. Her legs fell weakly on his shoulders as he ate her out. She felt like a sandwich in the hands of a starving laborer.

       Linda's fingers drifted up to her breasts, as the rest of her body demanded stimulation. Then her hands were torn away, as others in the crowd demanded a taste of her as well.  Suddenly, she felt lips and tongues pleasing each of her breasts. Long tresses of a woman's hair tickled her belly. Kisses on her arms and hands, sucking on her fingers. Teeth biting into her thighs. Linda gazed up at the fading sun. The crowd was devouring her as if Linda would be their last supper.

       Yet still, somehow, she felt no release. The fire just kept growing and growing . . .

       Two big hands grabbed her head and pulled her face over the edge of the bed. Her body was contorted, yanked this way and that, but all pain seemed like pleasure to her then. She didn't see the dick until it slammed into her mouth. She started to gag before it slammed in again. She wanted to slow him down, but she couldn't remove her hands from the grasp of her other lovers. She could barely even breathe, as he pumped her throat with bone-like flesh, until he erupted, invading her with the taste of him. His rough grasp turned gentle, and now he held her head carefully, as she sucked the fire out of him.

       Linda sucked hard, as if she could suck his release into herself. Her eyes glazed, and her anxiety was unbearable, as the crowd worked her into a frenzy, yet she still couldn't come.

       Then, as if someone was pulling a giant curtain overhead, the blue sky faded to black, and day faded quickly to night. The edge of the Sun formed a crescent of flickering, brilliant beads, before totality. Now, the Sun was just a stunning, fiery halo of white and red around the dominating Moon. The heavens were an awe-inspiring mix of light and darkness.

       Linda's lovers stood back in awe, as a chill filled the air. The witches stopped their erotic celebrations. The insane festivity faded to a solemn silence.

       Calvin leapt onto the bed beside his master. He scratched at the sheets, and then raised a clawed paw at the sky, caterwauling at the spectacle.

       Linda twisted on her bed quietly, feeling the energy change around her, as a dark figure appeared from out of her peripheral vision and climbed up onto the circle with her, kneeling between her wide-spread legs.

       His hooded head eclipsed the eclipse. He threw off his cloak, and all Linda could see was the silhouette of his naked body. His hood fell onto the sheets, though his face was still hidden in the darkness. Linda didn't recognize his shadowy face as the same man who had teased her and played with her emotions for nearly an hour. For the first time, she recognized him for who he was.

       He was Jim. The vampire. The man she had nearly fallen in love with a month ago, during the last new moon. The vampire who had nearly killed her that same night. Adrenaline rushed through her body. Her mind was in a daze. A mix of overwhelming desire and unspeakable fear.

       Calvin hissed, then streaked away in fright.

       Linda tried to follow Calvin's example. She rolled out from under Jim. She fell off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the paved walkway.

       Jim reached for her, but she stumbled forward, half crawling, half running, to the steps of the pagoda. She climbed the steps, making it nearly to the top, when two hands clamped onto her hips.

       She stopped fleeing, paralyzed by indecision.

       The hands loosened their grip, and lightly stroked her back and her sides, calming her fear, reminding her of his gentle side.

       Leaving only Linda's desire to subdue.

       Jim's hands caressed her ass, until Linda parted her legs slightly. He rubbed his fingers into her pussy, until Linda moaned, and her juices flowed freely. Then he spread her juices up the crack of her ass, lubricating her virgin anus.

       Linda tensed with fear and anticipation. She rested her head on the cement floor of the pagoda, and straightened her legs on the steps, thus propping her ass high in the air, and flaring her buttocks. Jim pushed a lubricated finger into her asshole, and twisted around inside her, softening her entry point. Linda squirmed in pleasure, but she needed more stimulation. She maneuvered her arm under her body, and her hand between her legs, and fingered her dripping clit, while she looked back at the crowd.

       She could barely see them in the odd lighting, but they were gathering closer, eager to watch their sex goddess take it up the ass. Flashes from cameras pierced the darkness. When Linda squinted, she could barely make out several of the naked witches, bent over as she was, with men, maybe photographers, positioned behind them. She smiled bemusedly, and thought they were like an aerobics class following their leader.

       But there was one man, standing alone who wasn't participating in the festivities. He looked like a statue in the dim light. Linda tried to see him more clearly.

       When suddenly, her mouth and eyes opened wide in horror and pain and wonder, as Jim's dick bored into her tiny, sensitive, unready anus. He penetrated barely an inch or two, but the pain was excruciating. Linda moaned like a dying animal. Tears poured from her eyes. She had never thought it would be this painful. Yet she did not struggle to get away.

       Jim withdrew his dick for a moment. He slid into her pussy for more lubrication, and then he thrust deeper into her anus.

       Linda felt like she was being ripped apart inside. Her wails were met by wails from her disciples in the crowd, whose asses were likewise crucified, as they followed her example.

       Again, Linda glimpsed the solitary man, who seemed like he wanted to do something. Maybe he wanted to go to her. But he kept still.

       Then Linda saw nothing at all, as Jim brutally pushed her face into the cement, and his full length invaded her backside. She couldn't even scream this time. She couldn't even clench her teeth against the pain. Her energy was completely drained, having fed Jim's passion, and having fed the passions of the whole world, leaving her empty.

       The pain shot up through her belly, and then eased as Jim pulled out. He plunged again. Linda moaned weakly in anguish. He plunged again.

       This time it wasn't quite as bad. Her ass was loosening. Or Linda was just getting used to it.

       Linda's fingers shook as they touched her clit. She felt dizzy. She looked back over the park. Her vision was spinning. With that one man anchored firmly in the middle.

       Now the pain in her ass was a dull, throbbing ache, and she realized the pain had turned. It wasn't exactly pain anymore. It was evolving, growing into something else. Whatever it was, it was building momentum.

       A momentum borne of pain and fear and humiliation. Evolving into pleasure and desire and exaltation!

       Jim pounded faster into her more receptive ass, filling her with his potency, replacing her lost energy with something new. Linda's fingers rubbed at her clit urgently. She felt like her soul was being ripped from her body, like her soul was expanding, touching everything and everyone around her.

       She opened her eyes, and all she saw was that solitary man, looking up at her, thinking about her. Yes, somehow she knew what he was thinking. It was like she could hear his thoughts, like a deep voice rising above the sound of her heart beat and the roar of sex. He was asking her something. "When did you have your last period?"

       Linda blinked. What a strange question to ask at a time like this.

       She shut her eyes and lifted her head in expectation. She was very near now. The torture in her ass was sweet. The cement scratching her breasts and knees felt wonderful. Her eyes flooded with joyous tears.

       Jim reached around Linda's throat, as he drove deep inside her one last time. He grabbed the magic necklace Zatanna had given Linda and, with a quick yank, he tore it away.

       Setting Linda free!

       She felt like the ocean crashing against a rocky shore, with bits and pieces of her spraying into the air. She sang in screams with abandon. Her soul exploded like a supernova, enveloping the whole world, sharing her joy with all creation. For the first time, she felt as though her life had meaning. If she died right then, she would have died fulfilled, with no regrets.

       And then she understood her fate. She understood the sacrifice Zatanna had spoken of. She was meant to die here and now. Somehow dying would make a difference. Somehow dying would satisfy the abyss and make her immortal.

       The eclipse was finally breaking, after what seemed like hours. The sun peaked out from behind the moon, and Linda opened her eyes.

       There was the solitary man again, though now Linda could see the cape flowing behind his back. Clark? She could feel his love for her, different from the love that the crowd was feeling. And that made her sad. "Have you been feeling nauseated lately?" he queried.

       Linda blinked. Again with the strange questions.

       Jim pulled out of Linda and rolled her body over on the pagoda's floor, so that she was facing him. Wisps of smoke burned his skin, as the Sun's light exploded from behind the Moon, striking his back. The time was now. He brushed the hair away from her throat. He gazed into Linda's peaceful eyes. He showed his fangs.

       Linda felt calm. She felt ready. But something gnawed at her. Something was missing. Something was incomplete.

       Something about that solitary man's feelings. Something about his questions.

       And then, as the sun exploded the darkness, the truth dawned on her.

       She was pregnant.

       It didn't make sense. How could she know that? How could she be pregnant? It didn't make sense, but it made all the difference. The knowledge woke her from whatever dream or spell she was under.

       She turned her head, as Jim lunged for her throat. His teeth grazed her shoulder instead, barely scratching her, but giving him a taste of her blood. His skin was burning with a different kind of passion, and the bloodlust in his eyes sent a chill through Linda, returning her fear of death. She covered her throat with her hands, as he attacked again. He bit into her fingers, desperately needing just a few drops of her Kryptonian blood, before the renewing sunlight consumed him.

       Linda thrashed about, avoiding his attack. "Get off me!" she yelled, but without her powers -- without even an ordinary woman's strength -- she could never win this fight.

       Not without help, anyway.

       Suddenly, a hand grabbed Jim by the hair and yanked him back like he was a puppet on a string. Jim tumbled down the steps of the pagoda out of view, leaving a trail of sulfur and a puff of smoke in his wake.

       Linda didn't open her eyes right away. She kept her hands over her throat, as she waited for him to resume his attack. She had prepared herself for death. She needed a few moments to prepare herself for life again. Finally, she opened her eyes.

       Now, a super-man had taken the vampire's place, kneeling between Linda's legs. The warmth of the sun was in his eyes. His only thought was for her well being. He sighed. "Oh, jeez, Linda, I can't believe . . ."

       Linda started to cry.

       "Shhh," Clark whispered, as he touched her face. The blood on her neck and her hair and her arms alarmed him, but she wasn't badly injured. Just a few scratches. Her struggles made the injuries appear worse than they were, and she would heal quickly when she got her powers back. "You're gonna be OK."

       "It's not that," Linda shook her head, smiling through the tears. "I'm  just . . . overwhelmed! Look at me! Look at what I did! I don't know what came over me. I don't know what it all means."

       Clark looked around the park. Couples were lying naked and in a daze. A minister was kneeling near a tree, praying. Photographers continued to snap pictures with their pants down around their knees. "A lot of people are sharing your feelings right now."

       "I don't understand it at all," Linda continued, trying to focus her thoughts. "But somehow it felt right. I never felt so alive! And the worst part is that I *liked* it! Oh, please forgive me, but I *loved* every minute of it! ... I'm so scared!"

       "Are you insane?" Clark looked away, not believing his ears. "Jeez, Linda, you almost got yourself killed again! Is that what you wanted?"

       "Is it true?" Linda asked, collecting herself, thinking the one thought that held her together and tamed her fears and passions and shames.

       "Is what true?"

       "That I'm pregnant."

       "How did ...?" Clark started, baffled, but this wasn't the first time Linda had read his thoughts. "I really don't know. Maybe. The hospital did all sorts of tests with that blood from your visits. They seem to think you are pregnant, but they can't be sure, since your hormones were all over the map. They didn't need blood tests to know that."

       Linda's face was unreadable.

       "How do you feel about having a baby?" Clark asked kindly, anxiously. He took one of her hands in his and held it gently, firmly.

       "Do you mean it?" Linda asked mysteriously with a glow in her eyes, a glint of recognition and hope.

       "What?!" Clark asked in frustration.

       "That . . . you love me,"     she said, now doubting her intuition.

       "Jeez, Linda," Clark objected, rolling his eyes. His hands were shaking, as he brushed the blood stained hairs from her cheek. "Come on, now. I never even thought those words. How can you even ask me that?"

       "I'm sorry," Linda looked away, stung by his reply. "I don't know what I was thinking. I know it's stupid. How could someone as warm and kind as you love a . . . whore like me? I don't deserve . . ."

       Then, suddenly, Linda felt her body lifted from the ground, and Clark kissed her hard on the mouth. She didn't react instantly. It wasn't an earth shattering kiss. It didn't even get her juices going. But God did it feel nice! She put her arms around him and returned his kiss.

       Superman looked up, just as cameras started flashing around them. The reporters were already looking for a new angle on the story of the century.

       He scooped Linda in his arms, stepped outside the pagoda, and leaped up into the sky.

       Linda kept looking at his face, as they flew, wondering what he was feeling. "Tell me," she said, teasing his hard body with her fingertips. His muscles were like steel cables.  "Why were you just standing there watching me make love to the world? Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you join in?"

       He didn't say a word. But he didn't have to. She knew.

       She whispered in his ear. "Do you ever dream of making love to a goddess?"

       Clark's face turned red. He shook his head and smiled. "Jeez, Linda, get over yourself."

 ***

 

       Calvin meowed after his master, as the super-couple took to the sky.

       "Poor kitty," Zatanna said, lifting him into her arms. "Looks like she's left something behind."

       Zatanna sighed. Things didn't quite go the way she had planned. The Sun's Beloved did not live up to her part of the bargain. She gave the world a taste of paradise, and then snatched it away. But wasn't that taste glorious?

       And how could the goddess ever forget that taste of pure joy. What earthly pleasures could ever compare to it? Maybe she'll get another chance at paradise next year, at the eclipse in Europe.

       "Don't worry, kitty, she'll be back."

 


End file.
